Bowed, Bent, Broken
by Grumpy Greek
Summary: RNI chars in medieval setting. Lady of Winterfell,Maura Doyle loved to climb until the day she fell. She will wed Prince Garret,son of King Fairfield. Yet there are people that want Maura dead and she feels alone in the Game of Thrones, where one will either win or die. Can a strange raven haired mute help? Rizzles, bit of Game of Thrones lore too, no need to read the book/show
1. Chapter 1

**_Here's my first crossover story, based on a prompt I received by a reader. You know who you are. Please note that medieval storyline is not something I've done before so feel free to correct me on anything._**

There was nothing Lady Maura Doyle loved more than climbing. Her hands, dexterous and agile, knew where every crevice was and where each foot stand to get higher and higher every time. She'd bring her wolf with her often and Lady would watch and bark excitedly from the ground. Maura Doyle loved to climb, until the day she fell.

It was a beautiful morning, cold but sunny. Such was Winterfell, majestic in its frozen beauty. She was climbing one of her favourite towers, careful to be unseen. Seventeen years of age and still a maiden she was already studying to become a healer and things such as climbing did not befit a fair lady, and a lady of Winterfell no less. She knew it was probably going to be one of her last chances to climb, not because of some foresight of her fall. Her father, Patrick Doyle and Lord of Winterfell had promised her to the son of the king himself, the Garret Fairfield.

Garret was a handsome young man of twenty years , with looks that would befit a king, and it was so, since he was heir to his father and next in line for the crown. Maura had instantly fallen in love with him, with his blond hair and gorgeous cheekbones. She blushed whenever she saw him and last night when he poured her a cup of wine he had kissed her cheek and called her ''beloved''.

Garret Fairfield was all a girl could dream of and yet marrying him required leaving Winterfell and living with him in King's Landing. In a palace of course, but still it would be away from her home, the home she was born and grew up in.

Lady whined from the ground, her paws not suited to climb alongside her master. Maura looked at her sadly and wondered if she would be allowed to take her dire wolf into the city.

''Hush Lady.'' She muttered, more to herself, then she looked up into the window from which she was holding herself up. Mouth agape she saw the Queen herself, Emily Stern and the Queen's brother, Sir Jaime. The problem was that they were naked.

And they saw her too. Sir Jaime looked right at her and sighed. Walking up to her he put his hands on his hips and said:

''The things I do for love.''

Then he pushed her.

She was falling, for years and years she was falling, wondering if she could fly but pink and soft human skin was not suited for wings and he couldn't catch a favourable wind and she was falling and falling and falling...

She woke with a start and thought this was one of her dreams. She had a lot of dreams like this, trying to fly and fly and never quite managed. But this time it had felt so real.

Lady Hope Doyle was sitting by her bedside, watching her carefully. Then suddenly her eyes were full of tears and a cry tore out her mother's throat.

''Oh Maura...!''

''Mother...'' the girl muttered, and she would have gone to her only her legs did not follow her when she tried to leave the bed.

''Mother!'' She said again. ''My legs!''

''Oh sweet child, my sweet sweet daughter...'' Lady Hope cried. ''How may times did I scold your mindless climbing but you would never listen... oh my sweet child...''

''What do you mean mother? What happened?!''

''You fell Maura... you fell... and I was afraid to die, so many nights I sat here by your bedside, praying to the old Gods and the new, praying for the Mother's mercy and for the Warrior to give you strength...''

''Mother...'' Tearing her heavy blanket away she looked down at her pale legs revealed by her nightgown, pinching one knee only to get no response. Hot tears ran down her cheeks, soaking into the neck of her gown and she covered her face weeping.

The girl who sought to climb her way to the Gods would never run again. The girl that tried to fly not could not even walk.

''You've been asleep for almost a fortnight and I was afraid, so afraid...''

Her mother embraced her tightly and Maura took in her baggy eyes and disheveled clothes and the tired woman her beautiful mother seemed to have turned into the timespan of a few days.

''Oh mother...'' In her mother's arms Maura sobbed for her lost life. How could the son of a king marry a cripple? How would anyone for that matter? Her life was now over before it had begun.

At seventeen years of age Maura's future had been stolen from her so unfairly.

How could this have happened? She could not remember climbing that towel, she couldn't not remember.

Maura had never fallen before and everyone knew so.

The king looked at her. A big man with a bulging belly that could compete with that of a woman pregnant with quintuplets and win. A stern bearded face.

''I see...'' He said, casting another look at Maura who was settled on a chair in front of Korsak.

Korsak was a huge man, with height that was close to seven feet, covered in thick muscle. His hair was graying but nobody seemed to know exactly how old he was. He didn't speak, just made noises now and then. Maura knew him since she was a babe and had he been an ounce more intelligent he could have been a fierce warrior yet Korsak was the gentlest and most naive man she had ever met. She liked him though, he made her feel safe and he smiled whenever he saw her. Now he would carry her around on a seat strapped to his massive chest, and despite the embarrassment the proximity made her feel safe. He was always close as of late, helping her with this thing or the other, carrying her in his arms around the castle of Winterfell like a warhorse. When he wasn't with her he would work the stables and often one could hear him mutter in sounds that sounded like a chant but never was and always were close to his name ''Korsak''. That probably wasn't his real name but someone must have heard him repeat it over and over and the name stuck.

''I see your daughter has been damaged.'' The King said and Lord Patrick nodded solemnly.

''Yes your Grace.''

''The situation may have changed and a promise is a promise. I gave you a vow to wed my son and heir to your eldest daughter and I break none of my vows. A man is a good as his word and a king must be the best king of man.''

''Your Grace...'' Lord Patrick stared at the floor. ''I would never ask you to make this-''

''I will wed our children Patrick, I am sure Maura might not be able to stand next to her King when the time comes but she surely will bear him strong and beautiful children and brace sons that will in turn be kings themselves.''

The Queen cleared her throat. ''You surely don't mean... wedding promises have been broken for less.''

''Silence, I will not have you speak for me, I am capable of doing it myself.'' The king waved her off.

''Your Grace, I am forever thankful.'' Patrick bowed. The Queen snorted distastefully but there was no disagreeing with the King.

''You can thank me by accepting what I am about to offer you Patrick.'' The King said and Maura's heart soared, because she could see Garret's smile was meant for her. Little did she know what a clever way it was to mask his distaste.

''I want you to be my Hand and come back with me to King's Landing. You'll have a seat in my Council. I value no man's advice over yours.''

''Your Grace!'' Lord Doyle gasped. ''Surely there are other men more fit to sin on your council!''

''Nonsense Paddy. I give you two days to accept or deny my offer but think of the kindness I have done your daughter. You are dismissed for now, I will see you in the feast before I leace. I will have your answer by then.''

''Yes your Grace.''

In her chamber Maura weeped. She seemed to do so a lot these days. She was a beautiful maid, everyone said so, so beautiful that every handmaid wanted to bathe and brushed her hair and every boy wold look at her in the yard. Men would put down their axes and hammers and practice swords and they would smile and wave and pay her compliments and yet the King sayd he was doing her a kindness by wedding her to his son.

And he was right, she thought. He was right because now she was Maura the broken girl and not Maura the fair maiden anymore. The only eyes on her where those full of pity and the Gods seemed to have abandoned her. And so she prayed and when she felt weak and the seven Gods did not answer she decided to visit the old Gods of her father, the nameless tree Gods of the north, with their grim faces carved on trees that seemed almost alive when the wind ruffled their branches.

She rung a bell and Korsak was at her door almost immediately.

''Korsak...'' She whispered. He replied something grumbled.''Take me to the Godswood.''

In the Godswood she prayed for her brother Collin and her sisters Suzie and Caitlin and much to her shame most of all she prayed for herself and her broken body. Old gods of the North, she pleaded. I know nothing is beyond your abilities, so grant me this miracle, make me whole again, make my legs work and I will forever owe you my life.

The tree Gods listened with cold expressionless faces and stood silent witnesses to her pain, listening to her cries impassively. It was a long time before Maura resigned and looked for Korsak.

Yet when she called for him the man did not come, not even when she waited for quite a while.

Then she heard a noise and she tried to get to her feet, only she had forgotten, she had not feet, none that worked anyhow. She looked around at the ominous weirwood, the Gods of her father carved in wood, with eyes red that almost glimmered in the semi darkness and she wondered if these Gods could haunt the forest and walk in it. She wondered if they meant her harm or if were merely answering her prayers.

Instead of a God a man walked out of the trees, a wide grin on his face and was soon followed by a woman holding a bare dagger. Last of all appeared a grey haired fat man with a chain that led to one of the tallest women Maura knew. Her hands were chained in front of her and the man holding the other side of the chain kept tugging it forward and making her stumble. Her feet were also cuffed together, making her gait awkward, even without the man pulling her along.

She had long black hair that fell in curls about her shoulders, tangled and haggard yet it framed her face and enormous brown eyes wonderfully. Maura saw that she was dressed in clothes that would befit a man and it was a first impression that the group was carrying with them a slight man with long hair and yet there was no mistaking the curve of breasts, however small under the thin shirt she wore.

The captives eyes locked on Maura and drew her in and it took the young Doyle girl some time to register what the first man was saying.

''Such a pretty thing, all alone.''

She couldn't stand so she had preferred to sit, a blanket under her, in front of the weirwood, her horse, a gorgeous chestnut mare stood patiently next to her. The man towered over her as she was half lain and she could smell the rotting teeth in his mouth and the sour old wine he had had before.

''Why does the little girl have no company?'' This was the fat man, who was now setting the chain down and securing it around the weirwood. The red eyed of the carved face seemed to stare at him but he did not seem to care.

''Please leave.'' She said.''I want no trouble.'' But even she could hear how weak her voice sounded. ''This is is a holy place.''

''Haw.'' The man with the bad teeth sneered. ''This is no holy place little girl, these Gods are as true as the children of the forest and giants.''

Maura knew about the children. She recalled the stories about fairy like creatures that many years ago run through the forest, back then when magic was true and dragons flew in the sky. She looked at him, too afraid to speak. Where was Korsak?! The big man was nowhere to be found.

''Theres only one true God and here it is.'' He patted his sword that hang about his hip. Without warning the woman swung her chain into the tree, once, twice, thrice, causing a ruckus in the silent Godswood, before the fat man backhanded her savagely and she dropped on the ground.

''Keep it down stupid wench.''

She made a face, her teeth bared in a snarl but no sound came out.

''Never mind her.'' The man with the foul breath said. ''She's a village dimwit.''

The woman swung the chain once more and the fat man awarded her with a kick to the side.

''Haven't seen a pretty girl worth my time for a while now, but looks like here she is.'' He smiled at his company. ''And looks like theres enough of her to go around.''

Everyone laughed, even the woman with the dagger, except from their captive who mutely snarled again.

 _ **Leave me a comment on what you think of this. Wanna read more?**_


	2. Availabillity issues

_**Fanfiction is being weird so this chapter is simply an authors note to make the story available, I'm sorry**_


	3. Murder of Crows

**_Response wasn't so great in the last chapter. None the less, I thank all those of you that read and reviewed. I am giving this story a second chance, it is up to you if you want it continued in another chapter or not._**

 ** _Enjoy this chapter ya'll_**

 ** _LK_**

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Chapter 2

The man's breath was a thing foul. He yanked at her dress, trying to pull her forcibly to her feet, but her legs collapsed under her when he let g and she ended back on the cold ground in an ungraceful heap. He breath came out ragged in little puffs ad she lowered her head into herself, as if she'd somehow be less of a target if she seemed smaller.

''A cripple?'' The man sneered. ''Those pretty legs of yours don't work, girl?''

Maura's reply was barely above a whimper and she did not dare speak louder.

''Well that's okay.'' e smiled with a mouth full of rotten teeth and knelt next to her, grabbing the front of her grab and ripping it in two. This time Maura could note contain a shriek as she struggled to cover herself with her furs and torn clothing. A hot tear steamed down her face.

''Please go, my father will kill you if he finds you here!''

The silent woman let out a sound more animal than human and struggled against the chains while the man pushed Maura down on the ground pinning her lower body with his weight. He pressed a kiss on Maura's neck and then another on a freckled chest and Lady Doyle closed her eyes. When she opened them next, his hands, that had been groping at her waist, were gone, and another weight was pressed against her. His hands were up, under his chin, trying to stop the chain that had been wrapped around his throat from strangling him but he was losing the fight and a vein was bulging on his brow. He toppled on the side, off her, the silent woman latched on his back, using the chain that still hang around her wrists to strangle him.

Yet it didn't take long for the other members of the group to jump into the fight. A few blows on her back and shoulders were enough to extract her forcibly and send her sprawling, less than a yard from where Maura lay. Breathless the man rubbed his neck and she could see the white of his eyes.

''Worthless fool of a wench!'' He growled, underlining his words with a solid kick to the inert form. He probably would have said something more but the sound of hooves stopped him. Without as much as a sound an arrow poked out of the fat man's chest and a rider came into view.

''What is the meaning of this?'' Collin's voice boomed, and his Companion, a young lad known as Crowe notched his crossbow. The foul woman with the dagger still in her hand made a move towards Maura but she as well was awarded by the tip of an arrow blooming on the left side of her chest. She fell with an awful gargling sound, blood pooling hot around her, steaming in the frosty air. Crowe pointed the crossbow at the man who had ripped Maura's dress and he dropped to his knees, pleading for mercy.

''Who are you and what do you want in our territory?'' Collin asked, still mounted, but when he saw the state Maura's clothes were in and how she was still on the ground, curled into herself and sobbing, he immediately dismounted and rushed to her.

Collin had inherited not only the dark looks of her father but also his fierceness and temper and yet whenever he spoke with her she was the gentlest brother she could wish for. He ignored the kneeling man and helped Maura sit up. ''Maura!'' He exclaimed. ''Have these people harmed you?''

It was the time the silent woman chose to rise and make a run for it. The chains arond her wrists and ankles rattled and she sunk in the snow, but kept going.

A chained woman, on bare feet, would never be a match for a mounted rider. Crowe caught up with her in an instant and brought her down with the pummel of his sword. This time she didn't rise again.

''Crowe.'' Collin said. ''Take those still alive, bind them and bring them back to the castle.'' He gathered Maura in his arms and effortlessly raised her on the saddle to ride in front of him, supported by his strong body. He wrapped his cloak around her to shield her from the cold as they rode off.

Maura found that against her brother she was finally able to calm down and stop crying, and only then she remembered. ''Korsak? Is he okay?''

''Yes sweet sister, the Maester is with him.''

''The Maester?'' Maura asked, startled. ''Why? What happened?''

''He his his head , maybe it was one of these outlaws that hurt him. Did they hurt you Maura?''

She looked down at herself, her torn clothes and broken legs and shook her head. As if by some miracle she hadn't been hurt and the only damage was from the shock and cold.

''No...'' She replied, finally, and Collin pressed a kiss to her brow.

''I am relieved.'' He said, and on the way to the castle the soft rocking of the horse on the snow made her almost fall asleep.

When she arrived she was immediately takn to her chambers, in her brothers arms, and despite her protests she was given a cup of strong dream wine that sent her into a deep sleep.

When she awoke a night and half a day had gone past and her mother was sat by her bedside, beautiful as a maiden half her age. She had taken after her mother, delicate features, hair the colour of honey and sun, a light dusting of freckles covered her nose and chest that she had once heard her betrothed, Garret, describe as 'charming'. She smiled at the thought of the young Fairfield.

''Mother...'' She called out.''

''Yes dear?'' The woman said wearily, but her features were soft. ''How are you feeling?''

''Confused.'' She confessed. ''It feels like I had a very bad dream. Did all this really happen?''

Lady Hope of the house Martin realised how frail and innocent her daughter's voice sounded and she cursed herself for agreeing to marry her to the Fairfield's so young. In truth marriages had been arranged far before the age of seventeen, she had married Patrick when she was fourteen and him sixteen, but Maura would alway be her little girl and would always wish to protect her.

''I'm sorry darling but it is all true. The gods though were kind and judged your pure soul righteously, your life and honour was spared.''

Maura let the truths of her mother sink in, hand clasped over her mouth. Her mother's voice snapped her out of the shock.

''But all that is past, the chamber maids have prepared a scented bath for you to wash off and cleanse yourself.''

She rung a small bell and magically two girls appeared and two more, carrying hot water and salts and snow flowers. Lady Doyle allowed herself to be undressed by the young and cheery faces of girls that were twelve the youngest and fifteen the oldest. With their help she was gently placed in the tub and hot water was slowly added over her, submerging her in an aromatic bath.

The curtains of her bedroom window were drawn and one of the girls took a sponge to her back while the others laughed and gossiped. Maura took no part in the gossip but she reveled in their liveliness and giggling, their childish still voices and happiness, for she had always been a somber and solemn child, preferring to be alone rather in company. Through the window Maura saw a murder of crows fly off into the distance and she could hear their raucous cries and ugly squaks, sending a chill up her spine. Though wild crows in Winterfell were not rare, such a large number of them moving together and such a distressed calling was unusual.

''I wonder what makes them fly off.'' She said out loud. She had read a book once on carrion birds and how they would target a fresh kill.

''It's the execution, Lady Doyle.'' One of the girls chirped, a brown haired maid with a broad homely face and eyes too far apart. ''It's like they can sense death is close.''

''What are you talking about, Efa?''

''The man my lady, and that weird silent woman they found in the Godswood trying to steal your horse.''

So that's what they had told the castle, that the outlaws were trying to steal her horses from her, when the truth was so much more cruel. But then she realised the outlaw woman with the broken teeth and the dagger was dead so they could only be talking about their raven haired captive.

''What do you mean Efa?'' She asked again.

''Your Lord father has judged them and found them guilty in the name of the old Gods and the new. It is a harsh punishment for theft, my Lady, but Lord Doyle is a fair and righteous man.''

''No, no!'' She made herself rise some, using her forearms against the brim of the tub. She sent water, now lukewarm splashing on the floor and on the girls' clothes.

''Help me get dressed.'' She commanded in a voice that left no room for argument, even though she loathed to treat her maids unkindly. ''And call Korsak.''

''My Lady...!'' Efa said scandalised.

''Do it now!'' The urgency was clear in her tone, with an authority she did not recognise. She was quickly dried and by the time she was dressed in her gown Korsak was by the door, a bandage around his big head.

He picked her up with a smile and settled her on the seat strapped to his back. She cupped his cheek and kissed it.

''Take me to my father, Korsak, I beg of you, be quick.''

She was soon settled on horseback, Korsak behind her to keep her from falling. The big man did not know how to ride and guide the horse, so she did it for him, without minding the cold and wind whipping at her face while she reached the execution site.

She was lucky she had not stumbled upon her mother, she would forbid such outings at once. She had to make them understand, only she had witnessed what really happened and she knew that the silent woman was obviously a captive and did not deserve to be charged and executed for crimes she did not partake in. Whoever she was she had never done any harm to Maura in any shape or form.

Her father, Lord Patrick, stood tall and fierce in his furs, holding the two handed great-sword with the tip buried in the snow. Ice it was called, forged from Valyrian steel, the best kind of metal that there was, forged in the now destroyed city of Valyria. Since the fall of the great city nobody had been able to recreate the way they forged their steel and what swords remained were precious and as deadly as the day they were made. Some men, because of it's enormous size, almost as tall as Lord Patrick himself, called it ''Ice Pick'' ironically.

The headless body of the man that had pinned her down and ripped her clothes lay by her btoehr's feet and already crows were pecking at his head, a few yards away. The silent woman was knelt by the execution block, still in the chains Maura had first seen her in. Her hair was laid on the stone, eyes closed.

Lord Patrick raised his sword. ''Do you have any last words, woman?''

Her father always did the executions himself, even though he took no joy in it he always said he could not ask his men to do something he was not willing to do himself. He felt he owed the man -or in this case, the woman- he was proclaiming guilty to carry out their death sentence himself, look them in the eye and hear their last words. And yet still the woman did not speak.

''Very well.'' Lord Doyle said. ''As you wish.'' He raised his sword but Maura's voice stopped him.

''Father, no!''

The man stopped, letting his sword sink back into the snow. ''Maura, what are you doing here? You should be in bed, resting! This is no place for a lady!''

''She's innocent father, she did not bring me any harm!''

''And why does she not say so herself?'' Lord Doyle asked, taken aback.

''She was a captive, a hostage, she wasn't with them willingly!'' Maura insisted. ''Maybe she just cannot speak.''

''Is this true, woman?'' Lord Doyle turned to the kneeling form. ''Were you taken against your will by the outlaws?''

And still she did not respond, only watched. Maura would say she was a simple woman, dimwitted and retarded, but for those eyes. There was something intelligent in those big brown eyes, something alive in the way they followed hers.

''She has the brains of a pea, father.'' Collin sighed. ''I doubt she could come up with any criminal act. Maura must be right.''

''I think...'' Maura's voice faltered. ''I think she tried to help me, Father.''

It the woman had been trying to help her or was merely trying to escape, Maura did not know, but neither was enough cause for her to be executed.

''Very well.'' Lord Patrick said, thoughtfully. He turned to his men. ''Take her back to her cell while me and my daughter discuss this matter privately.''

As her father spoke the woman's eyes were glued on Maura. Her face was muddy and torn but held no expression, it was almost frightening. Two of her father's men grabbed her by the arms and took her away.

''Come, child, lets return you back in the castle and get you a cup of warm wine, and you can tell me all you need. I will decided what's to be done with this woman after.''

This time Maura rode with her father, feeling his warmth on her back. However grim Lord Patrick was, he loved his children and he had a soft spot for Maura. He did not wish to break her heart. There was a lot to be discussed but Maura felt that she had, at least for now, managed to save a life.

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 ** _Don't forget, if you liked this story help me make it better and longer with a comment_**


	4. Unsullied

_**Hi guys, here's the next chapter. Just a note, you don't need to have read/watched GOT to read this story :D**_

 _ **Femerlin: Yes, I've talked with your wife, it's so cool you guys both are reading this!**_

 _ **Sweetkid45: Of course Jane is here! ;)**_

 _ **Guest re Emily Stern : Thank you for your extensive review, here we find out more about Queen Emily ;)**_

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Chapter three

It was a dark night, the moon hidden almost entirely behind the clouds and the stars weren't enough to light Maura's way, not safely, but she did not risk lighting a torch. Korsak carried her gentle though as if he knew were every rock in the castle were.

She held onto his muscular body, her eyes closed so she would not be afraid of falling and go dizzy.

''Korsak...'' She whispered. ''Please don't stumble and fall on me.'' She wasn't sure if he had heard but his gait remained steady.

Curled in her heavy furs Maura did not feel the cold as much as she would have without them but she still felt prickles of frost bite her fingers through her gloves. It had snowed that afternoon and the snow was in places immaculate and untouched. Had it not been Korsak carrying her, her much smaller footprints would betray the fact that she had snuck out of her chambers.

Korsak came into a halt and she had to stretch to see over his shoulder. ''Don't worry.'' She said. ''The guards are drunk, I saw them sneak out wine from the kitchens.''

''Huh?'' Korsak huffed.

''They'll be asleep, the only have one prisoner to guard and they won't be alert.''

''Huh.'' Korsak replied, slowly approaching the man sat against the door. His mouth was open, a line of saliva connecting his bottom lip to his shoulder, freezing slowly in the northern wind. Maura smiled despite herself. Winterfell hadn't had a prisoner in years, often men were found, outlaws or turn cloaks, but they were handled outside the castle or brought in only to be executed. The castle cells had almost ten years to be used.

When she reached the only occupied cell it was too dark inside to see. She took one of the torches from across the hall and lit the candle she had brought with her in her leather purse. Conveniently the key to the cell hang from a rusty nail on the far wall. Maura smiled again. These guards were all about security.

''Get the key.'' She asked Korsak. ''Open the door for me please.''

The metal door slid open harshly, screaming from years of no use. He lowered her to the floor, lit candle clutched in her hand and her purse on her lap.

''Go wait for me by the door, I'll call for you.'' He started hobbling off before she said ''Thank you Korsak.''

''Uh.''

The woman was in a half sat position with her back against the wall. Maura lit another candle and left it on the floor, creating a small bubble of light with the two of them. She saw the woman open her eyes, watching her through half open eyelids. She had warm, brown eyes and was dressed in rags, though it was a man's rags she wore.

''Who are you?'' Maura asked. ''How did you get past the castle walls?''

The woman was less talkative than Korsak, she thought, retrieving a skin of water from her bag. She brought it to the stranger's lips. ''Drink.'' She whispered, and for the first time the woman seemed to understand. She cupped a boney hand over Maura's and took several gulps. The guards have been ordered to bring no food or watter to their prisoner until she revealed who she was. He hadn't killed her, but Lord Patrick was a harsh man. Maura on the other side had a soft heard, a thing she was aware of and regretted but could not change.

She reached to touch a sharp cheekbone. ''You're running a fever.'' She said. ''You need to see a Maester, and to do that you need to get out of this place. You have to tell them who you are.'' Maura urged. There was little reaction, but the eyes followed her with intelligence. A shiver run visibly thought the woman's body and Maura removed her own cloak, draping it over her.

''Why are you being so stubborn?'' She wondered out loud. She observed the deep cuts on the strangers cheek and brow, from where the outlaws had hit her when she tried to strangle one of them. Slowly Maura used a damp rag to clean the dirt and crusted blood. It must have hurt but she gave no indication. She wouldn't speak yet Maura was unnerved by the way she watched her, almost as if she was studying her.

''Are you wounded anywhere else?'' She asked and when she received no reply she proceeded to check herself. ''Are you mute? Did someone cut out your tongue?'' She asked, but at this point she did not expect an answer so she gently pried the stranger's jaw open. It didn't look like anything physical was stopping her from speaking, but Maura found teeth clean and all accounted for. She was no peasant, nor beggar but she didn't look high born either.

''Alright.'' She sighed. ''I have to go, but I will be back tomorrow.'' She looked up to call Korsak but stopped. ''Answer me this one thing, I beg of you.'' There was another round of intense staring. ''Were you trying to help me in the Godswood?''

She almost thought her efforts were for nothing, but this time, though it was almost imperceptible, there was something, the slightest nod.

''Thank you.'' She reached for her hand and squeezed it. She found it rough and calloused but it was gentle in the way the thumb hovered over her palm.

Korsak carried her away back to her chambers, but she did not sleep that night, her mind was full of thoughts of the strange woman in the castle cells.

The next morning she was summoned by the Queen, but her father requested to speak with her before she joined her Grace to break their fast. It was a private meeting in his chambers, and Maura wondered if something had gone amiss with the wedding.

A special chair had been constructed for her by the castle craftsmen, padded and comfortable, it was metal wheels that creaked in the bottom, so Korsak or one of her chamber maids could roll her easily. It made her feel better, but she was also very conscious of how helpless and ungraceful she looked, carried all the time by others, a stab to the heart each time.

Her father was sat by the window that overlooked the yard. Through it she could see Collin practicing his sword skills and her little sister Caitlyn cheering him on. Lord Patrick was a broad shouldered man with features that turned weary when he saw her.

''Maura dear, how is our prisoner doing?'' He said with that deep voice of his.

Maura jumped. ''She is confined in the castle cells, father, how could I know her state?'' , she said immediately, as innocently as she could, but she was not good at lying and a blush begun to spread across her chest.

''Sweet child.'' Her father laughed. ''There is no reason to hide from me, I know all about your nightly... 'adventures', worry not.''

''But... But how father?'' She asked, then clasped a hand on her mouth, realising she had just admitted it herself.

''I have a shadow guard on you, every minute of the day since that folly happened in the Godswood.'' He turned his eyes to her. ''I will keep you safe my sweet daughter.''

''But I saw nobody with us in the cells...'' Maura muttered confused.

''That is what a shadow does, dear, he hides, you will never see him, but he will always be there to protect you, even when you leave for King's Landing.'' He kissed the top o her head. ''So how is she?''

''She um...'' Confused about the change of topic Maura stuttered once more, oh how she hated to do that, it was so improper. ''She needs to be freed father, she has done nothing wrong, she needs to see a Maester.'' She knew she could always speak frankly to her father.

''So she shall.'' The man sighed. ''Had she wished to harm you in any way she would have attempted so while you were down in the cells with her and the shadow guard would have killed her at once.''

''You really... will free her?''

''If what you say is true then she might even have helped save you before Collin arrived. She shall be set free and put to work here in the castle. The chains will remain, though, for now.''

She kissed him on the cheek and embraced him. ''Thank you father!''

''Maura...'' He said, sitting on a chair opposite her. ''Why do you care so much whether this woman lives or dies?''

''She has done nothing to deserve to die...''

''You do not know that.''

''And you do not know for sure that she has either.'' She said, but blushed, immediately embarrassed by her audacity. ''I apologise father, you know best.''

''Never be afraid to tell me when I'm wrong child.'' He put a hand on her shoulder. ''Yet this is life, innocent people are killed every day. If you cannot accept that your own life will also be short and miserable.

''All life is precious, father.''

There was a brief silence, Maura's eyes were on the floor when Lord Patrick spoke again. ''That is is, Maura.'' He shook his head. ''Go now, Queen Emily awaits you child. We shall speak again later.''

Queen Emily was a true southern. She was dressed in a light summer gown with a deep plunging neckline that was the reason the fire burned so hot. She sat on an ornate chair and plates of hot bread and butter, eggs and bacon and fruit, rich disks of pies were laid before her.

''Maura dear.'' Queen Emily said when she saw her. She was fairly young still, only five and thirty, with light brown hair and full lips. ''So good to see you are awake, we had quite a fright.''

''Thank you your Grace.'' Maura would have performed a curtsy but of course she was unable to stand so she just bowed her head and lifted her skirts a bit. The room was too hot and she was dressed in furs, like all Northerners. None the less, her chambermaid, Efa, pushed her close to the table and the queen poured her a cup of wine.

''How are you feeling child?''

''I am well, your Grace, thank you. How do you find the North?'' Maura was nothing if not polite and full of courtesy.

''Your men are cold, your clothes rough and your wines brusque and heavy. Quite honestly this cold does not agree with me.'' The Queen smiled. ''I supposed there's nothing better than the comfort of home. There's too much of the South in me, I'm afraid.''

''I am sorry to hear that your Grace, I hope that you have everything you require her until we leave for King's Landing.''

''Oh yes, of course, your father has arranged for everything, such a good and loyal man to his King.'' She took a sip of her wine and turned to Maura. ''I heard lemon pie is your favourite, I asked them to bring some for you.''

''So thoughtful of you your Grace.'' Maura mumbled, politely taking a piece of pie into her plate. She pushed it around with her spoon. ''How is your brother sir Jaime? I heard he is such a gallant knight, you must be very proud.'' Her appetite was gone for some reason and when she looked up she found the Queen looking at her frozen.

''Of course I am.'' She said coldly. ''He is the commander of the Royal Guards, he follows the king wherever he goes.'' Slowly she spread butter on her bread. ''I heard of your terrible accident, sweet Maura, I haven't had a chance to tell you how sorry I am.''

Maura watched her refined movements. Something told her that she had to be careful around this woman, her soon to be mother by marriage. ''Thank you, your Grace.'' She said.

''Do you remember how you fell?'' The Queen asked, feigning nonchalance.

''No, I must have slipped.'' Maura admitted. ''I was foolish.''

''Look at what all that foolishness has brought you, the Gods saw fit to punish you for it.''

Maura bowed her head in response.

''You are not eating, child.'' Queen Emily pressed. ''Are you unwell?''

''I'm afraid I feel sick your Grace, may I be excused? I think I'd like to see Maester Cavanaugh.

''Of course dear, I hope you feel better soon.''

It wasn't a lie. The minute she laid eyes on the queen her right leg begun to throb like it was afire. The most curious thing, she had lost all feeling to her left, but her right leg was very much there and shattered. The pain had intensified as the Queen spoke of her accident and now it burned fiercely.

Maester Cavanaugh was not a very old man, not much older than her father, at two and forty his hair had a gray hue to it but he was a lean and firm man, who never smiled but to her. He did so when he saw her but soon a shadow of concern filmed over his eyes.

''Maura...'' He said, sending away the maid and pulling her in his chamber himself. ''Are you unwell?''

By the time she arrived the pain had grown so fierce it brought tears to her eyes. The Maester fed the fire and transfered her to the bed in his arms.

Maura paled when she saw her bent legs once again and though she felt nothing on one of them it still hurt to look at them, at how ugly one minute of carelessness had turned a flawless body.

''This is good news.'' She heard the Maester say.

''How so?'' She asked through gritted teeth.

''Can you feel that?'' He pricked her left shin with a sewing needle. She shook her head. When he tried her right though she could feel a tiny pinch. He added a pillow behind her back and put a hand on her shoulder. ''I need you to try really hard and move a toe for me, if you can.''

''But I...''

''Humour me child.''

At first the pain was too much and she almost cried out but when she really thought of that one toe, really ordered it to move, it did.

''Very good Maura!'' He exclaimed.

''What... what does that mean?'' She stuttered, as he begun mixing herbs and powders for a pain draft. ''I need to look in my books, there might be a way to help you move, you won't walk on your own but you might not need to be carried either. You just might move that leg again.''

Maura's eyes widened but he stopped her. ''I do not want to give you false hope. There is a chance, a slight one, nothing more but a sliver of hope, but I know how important it is to you.'' He knelt next to her, handing her a cup of wine, mixed with the draft. ''I promise you, I will do all I can to help you.''

He eased her back in her chair and through the maze of corridors into her bed chamber. As he helped her through the door he stopped and looked down at her.

''You didn't fall, Maura. For seventeen years you've been climbing this castle, you have never fallen.''

He left but Maura didn't know what to do with what he said, she remembered nowt of the events leading to her fall but she did not understand why someone would want to harm her. Maester Cavanaugh was a wise and trusted man but could she believe in his claim?

She found herself unable to sleep that night also, despite the pains of her leg being gone. The chambermaid she summoned took her to the library, then Maura ordered her gone. When she grasped the hardwood table she could pull herself closer to all the low level selves.

She lit a few candles and sat in silence, turning page after page o books written by Maesters and Septunes long before she was born. It was a thing she loved, learning about the human body and how to heal it, and it was such a wound that she did not know how to heal herself, so she turned to reading about the history of far lands instead.

It was deep into the night when she finally saw a book about the city of Astapor, on the higher selves. She thought about calling Efa to help her but she felt guilty to wake her up at this hour and more so, she felt too proud to ask for help. Reading was one of the few comforts she had, she could not be unable to do even that now, could she?

She grasped the lower self and just as she did when she was climbing, she stood, leaning heavily against the book case. She reached up and had the boo almost out o the self when she lost her grip. Habit told her to use her feet but the were not there and the hardwood floor came up to kiss her.

She landed on her side, gasping in pain. ''Efa!'' She called out. ''Help!'' But the library doors were thick and the walls more so, and she could not be heard. ''Efa...'' She whispered.

She crawled to the chair she had been sitting on, but when she tried to climb it it toppled on its side too. Tears of despair and frustration filled her eyes and it was only then that she heard the rattling of chains.

As single shadow detached itself from the shadows son the far wall and took the form o a tall woman that dragged a length of chains behind her.

Maura gasped when she approached, casting her long shadow on her body as she stood over her, blocking the light.

''Please...'' Maura begged, her heard pounded. Had she been wrong to help this woman go free? And most of all, where was this 'shadow guard' ? ''Please, I... please don't hurt me...''

Gently the woman gather her into her arms and lifted her with surprising ease. Maura closed her eyes, shaking, but instinctively wrapped an arm around the woman's shoulders. She felt sinewy muscles working under the rags, a body hard as it pressed against hers. She smelled of fresh bread, she must be working in the kitchens, Maura thought, and something else, crisp lavender and lemons...

She was terrified but the woman felt warm and she was ever so careful, as if she was handling the most fragile crystal. She placed Maura on the table and it was tall enough that when Maura opened her eyes she was face to face with her, staring into those dark eyes. The woman wasn't even breathing hard form the exertion, Maura noticed, but she herself was panting. She felt her breath on her face though, so close she was, in a room that had suddenly grown freezing cold.

Then the woman turned away and picked her chair up. She held her arms out or Maura and this time Lady Doyle, though hesitantly, held onto the woman's shoulders as she was lifted back into her seat. Her clothes were rough to the touch but clean, she must have taken a tumble in the river and dried by a fire, since it was impossible to remove the clothes without cutting them off, not with the chains around her wrists.

Soon as she had Maura seated she moved away with a bow, lowering herself on one knee, looking at the floor.

Whoever she was, Maura realised, she knew of courtesy and manners, yet she was not high born herself. Again she came to the conclusion that, though she wasn't low born enough to be ignorant of propriety, she was nowhere near Maura's class.

How had she not heard the chains? She had been in this room for hours, could it be possible that she did not move for the entire time Maura was there?

''Thank you.'' She said, thoughtfully. ''Please stand, sit with me.''

Slowly she rose and reached the book Maura had been trying to get and set it on the table in front of her.

''Who are you?'' Maura asked again, but when she got no answer she opened the book. ''Thank you.'' She repeated. She flipped through he pages. ''I have been reading on how the body works and what happens to it after death, but I saw this book there about Astapor, I thought I would read about the battle of Qohor.''

The woman sat, locking eyes with her. She looked to understand what she said. ''The Dothraki tribe is said to be one of the fiercest armies in the words. In the battle of Qohor they were faced with three thousand of the slave-soldiers of Astapor.'' She flipped the book to an illustration of the battle and the army of ''Unsullied''. ''The training of the Unsullied is said to be so brutal that only one out of three boys survive it. Those who do are sold only to the richest buyers.''

Suddenly the woman reached and pointed at the illustration. ''Unsullied.'' She said in a rough tongue. A long finger touched the word under the illustration, which seemed to be the only one she understood. ''I am Unsullied.''

* * *

 _ **Be kind enough to leave a review for this writer to let her know what you think so far! All opinions accepted!**_

 _ **LK**_


	5. A name for the nameless

Chapter 4

At first Maura felt disbelief. There were no known accounts of female unsullied. Yet why would she have broken the silence she had so desperately kept for days -almost to the cost of her life- only to tell a lie?

''It can't be...'' She argued.

She didn't get any more of an answer than she expected, a look that might have been showing offense.

''Where are you from?'' She asked instead and then remembered the training the Unsullied soldiers had. ''You may speak to me whenever you wish to speak.''

''Astapor.'' Came the answer. ''Beyond the Slaver's Bay.''

''This is a far way from home.'' Maura gestured at the thick walls of Winterfell. The stranger was from a far warmer climate, no wonder she had the bronze skin of summer. ''What is your name?''

''Unsullied have no names.'' The woman said. Her voice was like listening to velvet sing, if such was possible, and yet still rough, like someone more used to tongues other than the common.

''Well, how does one call you?''

''With the name I had before 'she' came.''

''And what is that?''

The woman bit her lip, as if she debated whether Maura was to be trusted with such secret.

''Black Rat.''

''What kind of name is that?!'' Maura asked, surprised, yet she put a hand over her mouth immediately, afraid that she had given offense.

''Unsullied have no names. At the beginning of morning practice we pull a slip of paper out of a jar with a name written on it. At dusk we return it and we pull a name anew the next day.''

For an instant Maura was silenced, then she shook her head. ''This is no way to treat a person, I cannot call you that. It is rude.''

The woman blinked, standing rigid. ''I am afraid I do not understand. What is it you wish to call me my lady? Names are for people. Unsullied are something else.'' The ease with which this was said was shocking. It seemed to be something she had heard and repeated a million times.

''Oh nonsense.'' Maura recovered quickly. ''Get me this book that writes ''Doyle'' on it's back.''

With quiet grace the soldier rose, but when she reached the bookcase she hovered with uncertainty.

Maura once more was hesitant but quickly enough realised what the problem was.

''You cannot read.''

''I am afraid not, my lady.''

''Oh please, don't worry, I apologize, I should not have assumed...!'' Maura said hurriedly, to avoid pushing her back into her shell. ''It is the black one, has a dire wolf under the title.''

Long fingers pulled the book and laid it in front of Maura, so gently as if it would break. Lady Doyle opened it and flipped through it's old pages. ''This is a book listing generations and generations of my family, there are so many names to choose from here.'' She slid the book to the woman across the table.

She looked at Maura curiously, but in the end she took the book. Her hands stroked the pages and hesitantly she pointed out a word.

''That's 'John', this is a man's name.'' Maura smiled and the woman reddened, lowering her eyes with shame.

Lady Doyle reached and touched her arm. ''It's okay, don't be embarrassed. I'm sorry. I'll help you.'' The soldier looked at the hand laid over her forearm as if it was the strangest thing, then exhaled.

''Alright.'' She said, turning another page. ''How about this one?''

''That's 'Leanna', what do you think?''

''I...''

''Don't worry, speak up.''

''I don't know...'' She sighed. ''Maybe?''

''Take your time...'' The browsed through another page.

''Here, this seems small?''

''Catlyn?''

The woman sighed and leaned her head in her palms. ''I know...!'' She said suddenly, getting up. She moved behind Maura and covered her eyes. ''You pick one.''

''At random, like this?!'' Maura said incredulously.

''Please.''

''Fine...''

It was weird, trusting this woman she barely knew, not to harm her in the middle of the night while she had her eyes closed and she was trapped in the chair, unable to run if she had to. But she realised she felt no fear nor did she feel uncomfortable at the feel of the soldier's chest and hard shoulders pressed against her back, nor did she mind that her chains weighed coldly around her own shoulders and brushed lightly on her cheeks as they hung from her wrists. Her finger brushed the page and stopped.

''This one.'' She announced, and the woman withdrew.

''Jane.'' Maura read, as she opened her eyes.

''Perfect.'' The woman smiled and it dawned on Maura this was the first time she had seen her smile. Her hard grew lighter and for the first time she noticed that cleft on her chin and now her eyes could focus nowhere else but there.

''Jane...'' The woman considered her new name. She liked it.

It was her Maura name.

The night that followed Lady Martin sat by her daughters bed as she slept. Earlier that evening she had watched from a distance as Maester Cavanaugh put her through rigorous exercises, making her broken leg twitch and once or twice even move. The pain had been so great afterwards that Maura had to be given a cup of dreamwine to put her to sleep.

Now Lady Hope watched in silence how beautiful her daughter was in the light of her oil lamp, the way her lips gently parted in sleep and how her hair fell around her head on the pillow, like a pool of sweet honey.

She didn't realise she wasn't alone in the room anymore until she looked up to see a dark figure.

''Collin...'' Se let out a breath. ''You scared me half to death.''

''I'm sorry mother.'' The tall young man was handsome, she had no worries about that, she had brought two beautiful children into this world. Her youngest, Cailyn, was still a little girl that looked too much like a boy, a few teeth missing still from her mouth, and yet she still saw a pretty little thing when she looked at her.

''What brings you here?'' She asked he son.

''I heard Maura is doing better, I thought I'd find her awake as usual, her nose deep in a book.''

''The Maester gave her dreamwine, she is asleep.'' She smiled at him. ''It looks like she might get better.'' They both looked up, out the window as a bright light flashed through the room.

''Gods be good! There seems to be a fire!'' Lady Hope exclaimed, terrified.

''It's the library tower.'' Collin agreed. ''I have to go find Cailyn!'' He strode out of the room with two big steps, while Lady Doyle look out the window at the flames.

How lucky she had truly been, it would surely have been Maura in the tower, had she not been asleep right there with her. How could such a thing happen?! Had someone been careless with their lamp? She knew Collin was going to make sure Cailyn was safe in her bed, and her Maura was right there, so she felt relief wash over her. When she turned around she saw someone she did not recognise. She took a step towards the dark silhouette.

''It's an act of mercy.'' A man's voice said. A blade glimmered in the flames, whispering as it slipped out of it's sheath. ''Nobody else should have been here.'' He spoke again, almost regretful. He moved towards Maura's inert form, hovering over her for just a second before Lady Hope was upon him.

She was a small woman, by no means fit to fight an armed grown man, but she had the determination of a mother. She wasn't going to let her daughter, having escaped death's clutches once before, die now. She lashed at him, throwing all her weight, trying to scratch at his face. It sent him off balance but he grabbed onto her as she stumbled back and he trapped her between strong arms. She went for the knife but it cut easily into her palm, ripping soft skin.

He pushed her and suddenly she was on the floor. She waited and waited for a blow that did not come. Almost with curiosity she looked up but he wasn't paying attention to her anymore. In fact, now she realised that another person had entered her room. In her mind's eye she saw Collin defeating the man with a single stroke of his sword and wondered hwy he had not drawn it yet. From the position she was in both figures seemed huge and she could not easily tell them apart, but it suddenly dawned on her that the other person was unarmed.

At the moment she finished that thought she heard the rustle of chains, as the woman -now she knew it was a woman- wrapped a length of chain around the would-be killers throat. She pinned him, his back against her chest, as she twisted the chain, but he was stronger, and his struggling sent her stumbling into the wall behind her. They fell on the floor, still tangled together and she smashed her fist on the side of his head.

He rolled away from her and she went for the knife, but he twisted away, slashing. The knife went through the torn leather jerkin and Hope immediately saw blood gathering and soaking her sleeve.

Realising that he was now outnumbered and perhaps in a fit of cowardice, the man went for the door, just as Maura's eyelids fluttered and slowly opened.

Lady Martin watched with horror as the woman reached for him, grabbed a fistful of his cloak and pulled him back in the room, spinning him around so violently he almost tripped on her, since she was still on the floor.

Suddenly she was behind him, dagger in her own hand, another hand buried in his hair. She gave one single swipe of the blade and opened his throat, just as Maura opened her eyes screaming, either to the horror she just witnessed or some unknown demon of her nightmares.

Blood spattered the Lady's cheeks and her white nightgown, his life pouring out of him as he gurgled horribly. It soaked through the furs that covered her as she screamed, screaming now clearly agitated by the carnage.

Lady Martin wiped the blood off her own face, she had been below the fight and it's results had soiled her own clothes too, just as the woman finally let him thud to the ground. She stepped back, away from him and as she brushed a black curl away from her eyes she smeared a bloody trail across her cheekbone.

Maura was sobbing now, but her screams had caught the Doyle house guards' attention. Footstep's approached and it an instant men flooded the room. They caught the chained woman by the arms and forced her to her knees, dragging her away shouting as one of them checked to see if the two Doyle Ladies were harmed.

Lady Hope wanted to stop them but she had no voice. Surprisingly the woman did not resist, and Hope could hear her chains rattling against the floor as she was dragged, long after she had disappeared from sight.

* * *

 _ **Soooo, I know this took a while but I was just starting a new semester and it was hard on me too keep up with everything. It had to be just the way I wanted it and it took some time. Anyway, thanks for reading, please let me know what you think of this? It makes me very discouraged if people read but never leave a comment about things they did and didn't like, I feel writer-reader communication is very important.**_

 _ **Have a good rest of your day**_

 _ **LK**_


	6. True Colours

_**A long chapter for a long wait. Love y'all, hope you enjoy!**_

* * *

Chapter 5

Lord Patrick of the House Doyle was waiting for her in the hearing chambers where his office was. They brought her in by force, a dead weight that they pulled behind them. They forced her down on her knees before him, in the same clothes she were the night before, still soiled with his blood and her own.

Lady Hope was seated next to him. She had changed into clean robes, but her eyes were just as wide as the minute that man had entered her daughter's room.

''Rise.'' She said with a shaky voice. It was the first sigh that the women before her understood the common tongue, when she slowly got to her feet and stood before them, still expressionless, with a guard at each arm.

Lord Doyle cleared his throat before speaking. ''You have saved my daughter's life.'' his voice boomed unexpectedly. ''I am forever in your debt.'' He turned to the guards still looming next to her. ''Let her go.'' he said and they took a step back. ''For that I set you free. Whatever crimes you have committed in the past are hereby pardoned. Your shackles will be removed by the castle Smith.''

''You will be given food and clothing, for as long as you wish to stay in Winterfell you will be our honoured guest.'' Lady Doyle continued.

Lord Patrick nodded. ''Ask whatever you wish of me and if it is within my power it is yours.'' There was another silence that Patrick decided to fill. ''Your name.'' He said. ''please tell me your name so I can truly thank you, stranger.''

This time the silence dragged long. The foreign woman looked at him unflinching and unresponsive. Then a voice whispered.

'Jane.''

It was Maura, whom nobody had seen enter in her chair, with Korsak's help. She looked small in the heavy furs that engulfed her but the next time she spoke, however pale her face was, her voice was loud and clear.

''Her name is Jane.''

Maura had been watching with amusement for a long time. A tub had been prepared for Jane, the hot water steaming in the middle of the room, but the woman stood dazed five paces from it, still wearing the dirty clothes she had been wearing so many days now. Whenever a chamber maid would approach her to help her undress she would turn to them with those dark eyes and the girls shrunk back.

Finally one of them, an older girl of sixteen, was brave enough to withstand the stare and begun to unlace the leather jerkin she wore. Jane pulled away from her, a low annoyed hum bubbling from her throat. The girl squealed startled and Maura laughed.

''Enough, enough.'' She said. ''Go way, all of you. I think Jane wants to do this on her own.''

They hurried off, scattering, and Maura saw Jane's shoulders drop with relief. They stared at each other for a minute but neither moved.

''Well?'' Maura asked and it seemed to be the cue for Jane to finish what the girl had so clumsily started. She turned around, quickly dropping the rest of her clothing before entering the opaquely scented water of the bath, but not before Maura caught a glimpse of a long and hard body, made up of sinewy muscle. She had had seen many women bathe and bathed in front of many but for the first time in her life Maura caught herself staring at the muscular back that emerged from the water, as Jane sane sat up, facing away from her, found herself wanting to count all those scars-

''Why will you not speak?'' Maura asked, trying to distract herself from rudely letting her eyes linger.

Jane let her body drift back below the surface and turned her head to Maura.

''I have sworn a vow of silence to my queen.''

''You talk to me.'' Maura pressed.

''That's different.'' The thick foreign accent was intoxicating, Maura found herself waiting to hear more.

''Who is your Queen?'' She asked.

''Her name is Daenerys Stormborn of the house Targaryen, the unburnt, Khaleesi of the red waste and mother of Dragons.''

Maura's eyebrows rose. ''The last Targaryen?'' Aerys Targaryen was the last Kind that ruled before Robert Fairfield took the throne after his rebellion succeeded. Sir Jaime had been serving as his royal guard and had been the man who stuck his sword in Targaryen's back in the throne room before the rebels stored the castle of King's Landing. ''Aerys' children were said to be dead.'' Maura said with disbelief.

''That's why nobody can know about this.''

''Jane...!''

Indifferently Jane begun to scrub herself and it was then that Maura noticed the torn skin around her wrists, where the chains had dug in the skin day after day, forming cuts that would not heal. She also noticed the deep gash on her forearm and she pushed herself closer, she had grown quite deft in that, moving herself around with her rolling chair.

''You saved my life.'' She said quietly, reaching for her arm to take a closer look, but Jane pulled away from her touch.

She looked at Maura with strong and clear eyes. ''Are you afraid of me, Maura?''

The use of her first name and absence of her title sounded odd and the implication made her uneasy. She wanted to say no but she knew it was not the truth, at least not in it's entirety.

''I'm afraid of the things you are capable of.'' She said finally and it must have been the right answer since Jane nodded.

''Thank you.'' She said. ''For the truth.''

''I am not good at lying.''

''The truth is a dangerous thing.''

In the following days Maura saw Jane very few times during the day, catching glimpses of her here and there. The day following the library fire Jane had been requested to break fast with them, but after the awkwardness this caused for both parties she had opted for taking her meals in the kitchen with the maids.

Surprisingly Maura had often found that Cailyn, who seemed to have lost her appetite at the family table, would later sneak in the kitchens to eat with Jane instead and more than once she had seen her little sister sat on Jane's knees, the two of them looking at books full of drawings.

Cailyn was ten, she wasn't a babe in arms anymore, ad when the two weren't looking at pictures she was reading out what Jane could not for her.

A fortnight passed, and Maura had grown so accustomed to Jane's visits late at night, -she was even trying to teach her how to write- that when the time to leave for King's Landing came it saddened Maura to realise she would have to go and leave Jane behind in Winterfell. He could not possibly ask her to come with her, the foreign would take words out of her mouth to be an order and she would hate to put her in such position out of selfishness.

Luckily the answer to her problem came from the most unexpected of places: Cailyn.

''Father?'' The girl said with a mouth full of eggs and cheese. Lord Patrick laughed and Lady Hope gasped.

''Cailyn!'' She exclaimed. ''Don't talk with your mouth full!''

''Sorry mother!'' she said, with cheese still between her teeth.

''What do you need Cailyn?'' Patrick said with a smile.

''Can Jane come with us to King's Landing?''

''Jane?'' Lord Patrick was genuinely surprised. ''Why would you ask that, Cailyn dear?''

''I really like playing with her father, we read together and she teaches me how to find with a sword-''

''A sword...?'' Lord Patrick was now concerned.

''Well it's not a real sword, it's a pretend sword, but we play together and she's really nice, she's my best friend, please father, please please please, can she come?''

There was a brief exchange of looks between Lord Doyle and his wife, before Lady Hope smiled. ''Cailyn dear, have you asked Jane if she wants to come with us?''

''I'm sure she wants to! She really likes Maur- ow!'' A swap on the arm from a laughing Maura stopped her and she stuck her tongue out.

''Well let's sort this now then.'' Patrick raised his hand, calling a serving girl close. ''Allie, please find Jane an tell her I wish to speak with her.''

The girl's face soured and Maura knew it was mainly because most of them were afraid of the foreigner. Which was a queer thing too, since she had done nothing to provoke them.

This was what Maura was thinking, idly pushing around the bacon n her plate, when she felt more than heard the presence behind. She froze, her back standing straight and, too afraid to look behind her she stared at her father instead.

''Jane.'' He said. ''I take it that is your name?''

She came slowly into Maura's field of vision, like a cat ready to pounce, nodding.

''Would you like to sit with us Jane? There is something I wish to discuss with you.''

Obviously she understood, but she did not sit.

''Well.'' Lord Patrick sighed. ''I understand my daughter is quite fond of you.''

Cailyn grinned, and surprisingly, Jane did too, nodding.

Not only this daughter, Maura thought, yet uncomfortably, thinking of the shivers it brought upon her when Jane brushed past her.

''As you know...'' Lord Patrick continued. ''We are leaving for King's Landing on the morrow.'' He looked at Cailyn's beaming smile. ''You are welcome to join us if you so wish.''

Instead of Cailyn, Jane's head head turned to Maura. She did not speak, nor move, but the question was plain on her face. Did Maura agree, no, did she want her to, come with her to King's Landing?

Unsure how she felt about the fact that Jane was asking her, Maura smiled none the less. ''She will come with us.'' She said to her father and Jane smiled, bowed and left to prepare for the long journey.

Early the next day Maura met Jane at the castle gates. The foreigner wore a pair of plain woolen britches and a tight leather jerkin under a long cloak of fur. On top of the black mare she had been given she looked far more intimidating than the day Maura had first met her, dirty and shackled. Her hair, now free, cascaded richly about her shoulders. She wore no sword on her hip but one could never tell what weapon could hide inside a boot or under a cloak.

Maester Cavanaugh would also ride with them, there would be a new Maester sent for the people of Winterfell, since he wished to treat Maura's condition himself. His trust for Southern Maesters was small and his seniority was such that none dared oppose him.

They rode for half a day until they reached the closes castle of the Whitebraids, whose low lord was one of the house Doyle bannermen. Maura rode by prince Garrett and by the time they had arrived to the castle that would shelter them for the night her face was hurting from the constant smile.

Truly, it seemed to her there was no knight more gallant than her prince, his sword glimmering in the sun as they galloped, and the line of perfect teeth that showed when he smiled. She was the luckiest girl in the seven Kingdoms, that despite broken Prince Fairfield would still have her as his princess. One day she would be queen too and it wouldn't matter whether her legs were bent and broken, because people would still cheer for her when she smiled at them from the window or when she rode by them in the city with her brace knight of a husband.

Her daydreams were cut short when the castle came into view. It definitely wasn't as big as Winterfell but it still was a pretty castle. She wondered if it would be Garrett that would help her dismount but soon as they passed through the castle gates he left without as much as a nod. She watched him dismount further into the yard and leave his horse to his squire.

She sighed and Korsak gathered her in his arms and helped her get seated in her chair. She saw the Queen at the table early that evening but not Jane. Lord Whitebraid was at the table too, a man with, ironically, hair white as snow that fell over his right shoulder in a braid.

''How are you enjoying your journey?'' Queen Emily asked her.

''It gets warmer every hour we ride south.'' Maura said honestly. ''I have never been away from Winterfell, I am quite fond of this warmer weather.''

''Oh you are correct child.'' The Queen agreed. ''Your castle is a freezing hell, I'm afraid.''

To that Maura smiled politely but her smile was more addressed to Prince Garrett who smiled back at her, seated gracefully next to his Lady mother.

''Mother.'' he said, when the first dish, a thick onion soup, was served. ''I was thinking that Maura and I could head for a ride around the castle before the sun sets. Would you care to join us?''

''Oh dear, how nice of you to ask, but Im afraid I have urgent matters to discuss with your uncle Jaime. Mayhaps another time?'' She smiled elegantly at her son and daughter to be.

''Of course mother.'' He turned to Lady Doyle. ''Maura? What do you say?''

''Oh yes, I would love so, my Prince!''

''Please my love, call me Garrett, as I will call you my sweet Maura. We are soon to be wed, there is no need for such courtesy between us.''

Maura's heart soared with delight. To hear this from his lips had a magical effect on her, as if he had uttered a spell and bewitched her forever.

''We should ride to the river.'' He continued. ''Lord Whitebraid tells me the sunset is most pleasing by the water.''

''We shall then, Pri- Garrett.'' She smiled wide, then blushed, covering her mouth with her hand.

Lord Doyle chuckled and turned to the Queen, breaking a heel of bread. ''Looks like this is a match blessed by the Gods.'' He said and Queen Emily nodded.

''It would seem so.'' She said, but the slight hesitation in her voice, though only heard by Lord Patrick, betrayed her disapproval. He knew that ever since Maur'as accident she had not been pleased with the condition of her son's betrothed. The only thing that kept the wedding promise unbroken was King Robert's honour and, -apparently- Prince Garrett's passive compliance.

The young man had neither agreed not had he offered any objection to the betrothal, but Lord Doyle, like any father, would view his daughter's husband to be with suspicion.

''I see your daughter's creature is not supping with us today.'' Queen Emily interrupted his thoughts.

''My daughter's creature?'' He echoed, confused.

''That thing- that woman who doesn't talk, she just stares... I suppose she is taking her meals in the kitchen as would be fit?''

''You're talking about Jane?'' Maura asked, a little wounded.

''She has a name then, does she?'' The Queen's eyebrows rose in surprised. 'It is belong me why you allow a wildling like her to live under your roof, Lord Doyle, much less why you have taken with you to King's Landing.''

''She might be low born.'' Lord Patrick said, his voice sharp but full of courtesy. ''Yet my family owes her a blood debt and my daughters have requested her presence. I have welcomed this woman in house Doyle and there is nothing more sacred than guest right.''

The Queen nodded with contempt. ''I heard of the grave danger your daughter was in, just a few nights ago. It was such folly that a man so vile slipped so easily past the castle walls.''

''Some say he came in with the Fairfield sell swords.'' Patrick said coldly and the implication, though heard by everyone at the table, was not clear enough to be taken as offense.

''Maybe we should go, Garrett.'' Maura suggested shyly, wanting to easy the tension that had spread in the room.

''I agree.'' Garrett said genuinely but as he turned it was only Patrick who caught his small yes staring at him like a promise of vengeance.

What man am I giving my daughter to? He wondered, as Maure and the Prince departed.

The two of them rode in silence. On horseback Maura was as tall as any woman. It was from the few times she could forget that she was crippled forever by an accident she could not recall. She could ride a horse ever since she could remember herself, she had always loved the way the wind run through her hair and how she could almost fly with a horse under her.

Now that she could not walk, riding was all she had and she did so as often as possible.

Prince Fairfield rode aggressively, often spurring his large dark horse into a gallop, and despite it not being the way Maura preferred, she was forced to hurry so she could keep up, apologizing to her mare for the manhandling with gentle pats on her coat. The river soon came into view, just as the sun reached it's lowest point, illuminating everything in red and gold. From a distance Maura could see two figures moving by the bank, the sun behind them made it impossible to make out their features.

When they got closed she saw Jane's long silhouette, recognizing her from the clothes she had been given. She had taken off her cloak and underneath she wore a skin tight leather vest that left the sinewy muscles of her arms and back in plain view, covered by a shiny sheen of sweat. For an instant Maura could easily see the Unsullied warrior in Jane's body.

The other figure belonged to Cailyn. The young girl had a thick stick in her hand and for a second Maura felt afraid for her little sister. She didn't think Jane would ever intentionally harm the girl but if she came at her like this she might react the unpredictable way a wild thing would.

Yet when Cailyn swung up her stick at Jane the woman twisted her body out of the way and a long staff that had been hiding from view so far came down hard, pinning Cailyn's weapon to the ground.

The girl laughed and jumped several steps back, then charged at Jane, waving her stick. Surprisingly the woman laughed to, and as she sidestepped Cailyn's crude attack, she reached and grabbed the girl by the waist, lifting her and whirling her around. It dawned on Maura that the two were actually just playing.

She slowed down her mare into a gentle trot, watching as Garrett continued galloping towards Jane and Cailyn. For a small minute, just as he neared, Maura was afraid he would run one of them down if he didn't stop in time. Cailyn saw him just a second after Jane id. She tried to move out of his way and stumbled back, dropping on the ground. Garrett halted his mount, just as Maura reached them.

Jane went to Cailyn, kneeling next to her and held an arm out in front of the girl protectively, her eyes darting back and forth between Maura and her betrothed.

''Cailyn!'' Maura exclaimed. ''Are you alright?!''

The girl opened her mouth to speak, looked at Garrett then closed it again.

''What is Lord Doyle's daughter doing in boy's clothing?'' He asked with contempt, as he circled them, frowning when Jane kept her arm in place, effectively putting herself between her and the young Lady.

He lashed at her, his foot connecting with her chest. ''Don't interrupt me when I'm to trying to speak to the Lady!'' He shouted and Maura gasped.

''Garrett!''She couldn't help but call out.

''Be silent Maura! Women have no place undermining their husbands!'' He cut her abruptly.

Jane was clenching her jaw, trying to find her breath, but she remained kneeling next to Cailyn, her body half bent as she wheezed small puffs of breath out. Her body seemed to radiate heat as sweat vaporised from her skin, ready to pounce at him judging by the fire in her eyes.

''The little girl is trying to fight like a man, is it?'' He turned to Maura as he dismounted. ''How can you allow your sister to behave so foolishly? I am disappointed in you, Maura.''

Maura's heart sunk. He was right. She might not agree with him but he was her husband and she had no place voicing opinions different to his word.

''You need to learn a real lesson young lady. ''He announced. ''On your feet now!''

Reluctantly Cailyn rose and with her Jane too. When Garrett tried to reach Cailyn Jane was between them again. She did not touch him, Maura saw, from fear of being accused of trying to harm the Prince, but again and again he bumped into her until finally he decided to grab her by the shoulders and bodily thrust her away.

She stumbled but did not fall and stood silently, arms crossed over her chest. Maura felt helpless, on top of her horse and unable to dismount, as Garrett commanded Cailyn to pick up her mock-sword.

The result was grotesque, the young man towered over the girl by a good foot and her knees were shaking so bad she could barely stand.

''It seems like your father has failed to teach you that girls should stay away from swords.'' He said and when Cailyn swung her stick at him like he had ordered, he unsheathed his own and hacked it to bits with a single blow, sending splinted to shower the girl as she fell back.

''The place of a woman is in her bedchambers, practicing her needlework.'' He said, laying the blade flat on Cailyn's cheek.

''Garrett! Please stop this! She's just a child!'' Maura finally overcame her fear and managed to say. ''She didn't know what she was doing!''

''Maura! What did I tell you about interrupting me?!'' He pressed the blade harder on the gil's cheek. ''Disrespect is how pretty girls get scars on their pretty little-'' He didn't break the skin.

He didn't have time to.

Jane's staff came down hard, knocking his sword away from Cailyn and towards the ground. He spun around, glaring at the foreign woman.

''All you wildlings are freaks and whores!'' He spat at her and Maura felt the need to correct him, since Jane was in fact Astapori and not a wildling northerner but she held her tongue.

''The Fairfield have nothing to fear from wildling whitches!'' Garrett huffed, raising his sword and hacking a wide arc where Jane's head had been a second ago. He swung hard, hammering down a blow but it struck the stuff at an angle and only took a splinter out of the wood.

''The lot of you are cowards and craver, dancing your little dances instead of taking an opponent head on like honest men!'' He growled in a flurry of blows that struck nothing.

Jane wore no plate of armour and no helm, any blow Garrett landed would slice right through her thin garb. She twisted her way out of another blow and pivoted, facing Garrett's unprotected back. Only Maura saw the staff some down, striking the back of his left knee.

His leg went out under him and he lost his balance. He fell forward, landing hard on an elbow.

Gallops became louder as riders approached them. From their clothes Maura knew they were members of the royal guard. Garrett rolled on his back and sat up. Jane's head cocked up just in time to see the men approach.

''Seize her!'' Garrett screamed. ''Guards!'' He thumped his gloved hand on the ground. ''Seize this woman at once! She tried to assassinate Lady Cailyn and murder your Prince when I saved her life! Guards! Defend your Prince!''

* * *

 ** _Hope to have another ready soon, let me know what you think of this please, really helps with my motivation._**

 ** _LK_**


	7. Loyalties

_**It's been a bit quiet since I posted the last chapter and I wonder if it is the medieval theme that makes people hesitant to review on this. Anyway, here's the net chapter, be kind enough to leave a word if you have time. Love y'all!**_

 _ **LK**_

* * *

Chapter 6

The heavy door clanged against the wall as it was pushed open. The torchlight was blinding even though its light was but a flicker. Lord Patrick was a looming figure, his shadow long and still as he stood at the door of the cell.

''Leave.'' He shouted at the guard. Dimly she recalled the other man who had visited her the night before, a hunched cloaked form in the dark, passing her a single vial half the size of the nail on her little finger. She knew that if she was pushed beyond her limit she had her way out instead of revealing secrets about her queen. It was tiny and easy to conceal, she had long learned how to sow secret compartments on her sleeves that were impossible to detect. She also remembered his words.

All is done. You are absolved.

It brought a faint smile on her face to know that the Fairfields had one of her Queen's allies amongst them and would never suspect a thing until the time came.

More importantly it meant that she had played her part according to plan and she was free to do so as she pleased, until it was time that she was needed once more.

She had spoken to the man once before, handing him what she had traveled half the world to deliver. It had set a storm of events in motion, though it would be too late when the result was revealed. In truth it was already too late and it would not mater if she died today or on the morrow. She had served her purpose.

Lord Patrick found her slumped against the wall, content but too weak to move -let alone stand- after the beatings the royal guards had served her on the way to her cell. She raised her head, cleared her throat in acknowledgment and let it drop back on her shoulder.

He crouched over her, bringing the torch so close she felt its warmth against her cheek.

''They've made a right mess of you.'' He noted and she did not flinch away from his touch when he turned her head around to inspect her injuries. She locked eyes with him, unafraid.

''Nobody is telling me the truth.'' He said, and his breath smelled pleasantly of spiced wine. ''Will you?''

''Yes.'' She said.

He was taken aback by her answer.

''So you do speak.'' He said, more to himself.

By habit, Jane nodded wordlessly.

''Prince Fairfield insists you tried to bring harm to my daughter, that you have been sent by a usurper to kill the heir to the throne.''

Well, Jane thought, in his stupid paranoia the prince had a grain of truth in his lie, however accidental.

''My daughter Cailyn insists that the Prince was in fact trying to discipline her and you offended him.''

''What does Maura say?'' Jane asked in a rasp.

Lord Patrick scratched his bearded chin. ''Maura is bound to agree with her betrothed. She cannot possibly undermine him or make him out to be a liar.''

''I see.'' But she had known already, hadn't she? She seriously had not expected the future Queen to take her place, a base-born haggard commoner, over her husband. Or had she?

''He claims you tried to assassinate Cailyn in the woods and he suffered wounds defending her against you. He also claims you used black magic in order to gain supernatural strength and defeat him.''

Jane laughed. More like he was craven and useless with sword in hand. ''He's a liar.'' She said, sobering.

Lord Patrick pressed a hand over her mouth. ''The walls have ears to hear secrets and lips to whisper them in this castle. The word treason has already been mentioned.'' he hushed her.

''Why are you telling me all this?''

''Two reasons. One is the debt my family owes you. The second is I still need you.'' He answered, holding up two fingers.

''The great Lord Patrick Doyle needs the help of some base born traitor?'' she said ironically, rattling the chains that had been once more fastened around her wrists. ''I'm honoured.''

''This might be a jape for you but I value my daughter's life more than anything in the world.'' His face darkened. ''The man she is about to marry-''

''Is a monster.'' Jane continued for him. The silence that followed was interrupted only by th cracking of the chains as Jane attempted to sit up against the wall in a more graceful manner. It was, in the end, by no means graceful, but certainly more alert.

''What can I do for you, my lord.'' The sarcasm had not left her voice and Lord Doyle flinched, but answered her question anyway.

''I need someone close to my daughter. Someone with the ability to keep her from harm and someone who can follow her even in the places only women go. You have repeatedly proved yourself both capable and invested, my own wife is witness to that. ''

''Unfortunately I cannot accept your offer, since a bodyguard needs a head and word is Prince Fairfield will take mine on the morrow, my Lord.'' She snorted.

''If you are officially a member of the Doyle house guards it will be easier to persuade the King a misunderstanding took place. You will go before the Prince, bend the knee and beg his royal pardon.''

She laughed and he frowned. ''What is there to laugh about, woman? You are going to die, are you mad?''

''You are the who is mad if you think our brave Prince would ever forgive me for disarming him in combat.''

His face grew determined. ''And this is why we will not present the case to him but to the Kind. Robert is a sensible man and will see the sense in our words.''

She paused and seemed to think about it.

''You will be punished, make no mistake, but you might be allowed to keep your life.''

she nodded. ''Consider this then a debt paid in full, Lord Patrick.'' She said in a low voice, finally free of sarcasm and the big man's eyes softened.

It was another day and another night before a guard came to unlock her cell. Lord Whitebraid's men burst in the room until Jane thought there was not enough air for them all. They lifted her to her feet and thrust a bag over her head, before they carried her bodily across an unknown corridor. She loosened her limbs, knowing that to resist was futile and soon she felt the fresh air of a much larger room. There were a lot of voices, people whispering to each other just low enough that all whispers were molded into a single buzz. Under her bare feet she cold feel a cold and smooth marble floor and she assumed that she was in some sort of hall where important people met.

They pushed her down on her knees and she obliged. A hush fell over the crowd and a voice announced.

''All kneel for his Grace, King Robert Fairfield, the first of his name!''

There was a pause and then the bag was removed. For a few minutes she was blind, her eyes assaulted by bright mid-day light. And the first she saw was the heavy throne, in which the equally heavy man sat in. His face was soft and red but his eyes were on her and she returned the gaze.

Next to him Queen Emily was seated her face sour and disapproving.

''I thought the last we had to see of this creature was when she went into the dungeon.'' She said with annoyance.

''Silence.'' The Kind said. ''Lord Patrick, explain yourself. ''

''Your Grace, this is Jane Snow, she is an honoured member of the Doyle House Guards. ''

A murmur washed over the crowd. Snow was the name given to bastard born children in Winterfell and Jane didn't mind it.

''A woman?'' The King took a gulp of wine from his cup.

''A woman, it's true, but she is trained in combat and worth more than ten untrained men-''

''This is folly.'' Prince Fairfield protested and for the first time Jane saw him standing next to his father and, surprise surprise, in her chair before him was Maura, wide eyed and pale. ''This creature is unnatural and should be put to the sword!''

She looks tired, Jane thought. Is she sleeping well?

The look his father gave him was enough to persuade Prince Fairfield to hold his tongue.

''Is it true that you attempted to assassinate Lady Cailyn Doyle, Jane Snow?'' When he spoke her eyes were still on Maura and she realised she had to speak.

Her voice sounded weak and strange and she found she couldn't make it any louder.

''I am a personal guard of Lady Cailyn Doyle and Maura Doyle.'' She saw Maura gasp and she realised Lord Doyle had not shared his plans with her. ''I would sooner die than see any harm come to them. I am gravely sorry that I have offended your son in the course of my duties, my Lord.''

''Your Grace.'' One of the guards corrected her, giving her the heel of his boot. She fell to her side and decided it would be best for her to stay there without looking like she would offer any resistance. ''You will address the King as 'Your Grace' or I'll have your tongue for it, woman!''

''I apologise your Grace, I have never had the honour to be in a royal presence before.'' She said, tasting blood in her mouth as she slowly returned to her kneeling position, figuring the guard was done with her. ''My manners are inappropriate, I am but a guard.''

Lord Patrick let out a breath he had been holding. She had handled that better than expected.

''Is this true Patrick?'' King Robert asked and Lord Doyle nodded.

''It is your Grace. My guard acted on my command. You are all aware of the attempt on my daughter Maura's life and all my guard are on alert ever since.''

The King seemed to consider it. Jane kept her eyes low, because she knew they would on their own accord return to Maura. ''The only reason this abomination is still alive is because of you, Lord Patrick.'' She heard the Queen say. ''Or else she would have been executed on the spot.''

''His Grace is merciful.'' Lord Patrick deflected.

''Indeed. Too merciful.'' The Queen agreed.

Prince Fairfield stepped in front of his father and rolled up the sleeve of his tunic, showing the dark purple bruise that marred the perfect white skin of his forearm.

''This witch attacked me without provocation and cast a dark spell on me, is it not so my sweet Maura? You must have been so terrified to see your betrothed attacked by a creature vicious as this.'' He gestured theatrically at the audience of Lords and Ladies of the court. ''It was Maura who head her utter the dark spell she used on me, tell them my beloved!''

He stood over her, expectantly, waiting for her answer. All eyes were on her but the only gaze she wanted to meet was Jane's and the foreign woman was looking at the floor, her head bowed.

''I...'' She uttered and Garrett leaned forward, prompting her to go on. ''I...''

''Did you not see her attack me from behind as I was trying to help your sister?'' He pushed further. Maura swallowed thickly. ''Maura you know I'm not lying dear.''

''Yes.'' Maura whispered.

The Kind turned to her, his brow furrowed. ''Speak up child.'' He called out.

''Yes.'' Maura said, louder this time. ''I saw her too.''

Another murmur went through the people gathered and Jane looked up at her, surprise in her her usually composed features and then-

''You're a liar!'' A little voice, girly and angry, just before Cailyn burst into the hall.

''Cailyn I told you to stay in your room!'' Lord Patrick bellowed. He did not wish to put his youngest in danger, Jane knew and had preferred to keep her out of the hearing court. Jane agree with him, Cailyn's safety should be put before all else.

''She is a liar!'' Cailyn shouted. ''And he lies too!'' She held up her wooden sword, broken to three pieces by Garrett's blow. ''He broke my sword! He made me fight with him!''

Bless her heart, Jane thought, she had no idea how much danger she was in. Lord Patrick knew all about the incident but he never wished her to speak in court.

''Cailyn, that's enough!'' Lord Patrick ordered ominously bu the King seemed to follow with interest and waved off Patrick's protests.

''And then Jane fought him instead but he lost and now he's angry! He-''

The King's thunderous laugh interrupted her words. ''You lost to a woman?!'' The laughter made his jowels and fat belly tremble like jelly. ''I knew it would be something like that -it's always something like that with you Garrett.'' He grew serious. ''You never had it in your Garrett.''

''Robert!'' Queen Emily burst out. ''Don't talk to him like that!'' Not in front of all these people, was what she meant.

''I'll speak to my son any way I like. Hold your tongue woman.'' Suddenly the focus of the court had switched from Jane to the royal couple.

Garrett had reddened like a beet, thick beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. ''Father! She has to be punished!''

The King sighed. ''Yes, she has, but we cannot go around killing everyone who bests you on the sword, or we'd be left with no followers.'' He let out another burst of laughter.

''This woman is a witch.'' The Queen said. ''Take her hands and her tongue, it's the only way to make sure she won't cast another sorcery on our son.''

''Oh nonsense.'' The King huffed. ''She will be punished for insolence yes, but I will not kill her, Lord Patrick is an old friend and I'll grant him this favour.'' He turned to Garrett who was grimacing angrily. ''What punishment would be enough for you? Save for taking her tongue, the woman speaks little enough it would make no difference and knowing you, you'll want her able to hold a sword so you can defeat her.''

''I want her whipped.'' He demanded after some thought, and the King nodded.

''It shall be done.'' The Kind agreed and Garrett puffed his chest like a proud cock.

''Two hundred lashes for insolence.'' The Queen demanded and Garrett nodded. ''She could have broken my arm!'' He said, as if that was explanation enough.

Maura gasped. She finally locked eyes with Jane and found nothing of the warmth she had known from her before. All was gone, she knew. She could never remember this tear, however much she tried. All she found in those brown eyes was cold emptiness. A tear rolled down her cheek while the guards took Jane back to her cell.

At first light the next day a crowd had gathered in the castle yard to watch the deliverance of the King's justice. Lord Patrick stood stiffly next to Cailyn.

The Kind and Queen were seated on their throne and Garrett was atop his horse. The rest of the people Maura did not know, but a man with skin dark as Maester's ink took the seat next other. It was the first time Maura had seen a man with such dark skin and she could not help but stare. He caught her eye and smiled.

She blushed.

''I'm sorry, I did not mean to-''

''It's alright.'' He wasn't a big man and something kind sparkled in his eyes. ''I'm Barold Fairfield, my lady.'' He kissed her hand.

''A Fairfield?'' She asked, surprised. How could it be?

''I know. The Gods seemed fit to make me so.'' He smiled and seemed to not worry much about it. ''I am Queen Emily's and Sir Jaime's brother.''

''You don't seem that old.'' Maura noted.

''I am the youngest of the three.'' He explained. ''Just four and twenty, only a few years than your betrothed, truth be told.''

''I see.'' She smiled politely at him but her mind was somewhere else, to Jane whom she knew was waiting deep into the castle cells.

That morning, though shiny, had a chill to it. It had snowed the night before but it had been but a light dusting that was not melting under the first sunlight. She waited for Lord Barold to say something more but he didn't, not until the crowd was forced to part as a flurry of guards moved through them.

Between two men in the gold cloak of the royal guards was Jane. Her vest had been taken and instead she wore a dirty shirt over the same leather britches. She walked with a guard on each arm, the alternative being dragged to the raised platform.

She looked weaker than she had been when Maura first saw her but her gait remained graceful as she climbed the steps. Maura watched painfully as the pronounced bones of her wrists rubbed against the chains.

On the floor was a metal ring, to which a guard reached and locked her shackles on, trapping her to a kneeling position. She knelt proud and unflinching, her eyes washing over the crowd, taking them all in. Her features were strong and contained.

Lord Warren Hoyt was one of the men closest to the Fairfields, Maura had learned form the Prince himself. He seemed to be some kind of royal councilor, though base born. He was a man of average height, counting one and forty years on his straight back. He was one of the two men that followed Jane up the platform, where everyone could see, garbed in white furs and boiled leather. The other was Sir Ilyn, a man who's tongue had been taken a long time ago by the mad Kind Aerys Targaryen for insolence. He was the royal executioner and Maura's heart skipped a beat when she saw him, but today instead of a great sword or an ax he carried a whip.

Lord Hoyt's voice drew a hush from the crowd. ''Jane snow you have been sentenced two hundred lashes for insolence against Prince Garrett Fairfield and his royal person, heir to King Robert Fairfield and heir to the iron throne.'' Someone in the crowd whistled loudly and a rock was flung to the platform. It caught Jane on the shoulder and soon more joined, two of them striking her back and finally one found her brow, and blood poured down her face, blinding her from the right eyes.

Maura clasped a hand over her mouth, stifling a cry.''We have to make them stop!'' She said to Lord Barold as the crowd roared.

''I'm afraid it's too late for that my Lady.''

''Order!'' Kind Robert stood and guards pushed against the crowd, forcing people away from the platform.

''This is folly.'' Lord Barold sighed. ''Nothing but a mummer's farce by no other than my beloved nephew.''

Then something queer happened. Jane raised her head and looked right at her, as if she knew exactly where Maura was seated from the very start. And what was so strange was that in Jane's empty face her stare felt like an open, loud scream of accusation.

Lord Ilyn produced a dagger and with an abrupt lowering of his blade he opened the back of Jane's shirt, then grabbed a fistful of the fabric and tore at it, baring her back to the crowd. She visibly flinched when the morning chill hit her skin yet her eyes never left Maura's as the blood still run down her cheek. And even when her entire body jerked under the first cracks of the whip she remained as she was, jaw clenched and eyes right into Maura's.

It was Lord Hoyt who first followed her gaze to Maura and for a second Maura thought that he would join Jane and stare at her too, in the way men would stare at a woman of lesser birth they might bed. Yet she saw the glimmer of a smile on his face and he turn to Jane, landing a savage blow with a gloved fist across her face.

''Take your eyes off the little Lady, whore!''

It sent her tumbling to her side, with a thud, her back a bleeding mass of torn skin.

Maura cried eyes in a sob and Lord Barold reached for her hand, producing a square of clean linen for her.

''Get ahold of yourself, my Lady, your betrothed is watching. ''He said and she quickly realised the truth of his words. Garrett was looking right at her but at that moment it could not stop her from weeping. She found it senseless that he would do this to Jane, yet she had tried to tell herself that the future Prince had to instill discipline to his subjects so he would bring peace to the realm. Jane was low born and she had been lucky to not be executed for assaulting a member of the royal family. But it really wasn't making it any easier to watch, blow after blow ripping Jane's body apart. The Astapori had managed to regain her previous kneeling position but now the blows and the weakness brought upon her by the blood loss and pain had left her lying on her side as he whip cracked over and over again.

''Please take me out of here.'' She whispered breathlessly into Lord Barold's ear.

His eyes widened. ''Lady Maura, your husband-''

''Please help me back to my chambers, I feel unwell.'' She repeated and with a glance to Garrett Lord Barold nodded and rose to help her wheel herself back into the castle.

She caught a brief glance of her father, standing stony faced and for the first time, when he looked at her, she saw contempt and disaproval.


	8. Hurt

There it is folks...sorry for the wait...lemme know what you think!

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Chapter Seven

Maura looked at Maester Cavanaugh's outstretched hands, taking time to absorb the wiry fingers before she took them. She felt him pull most of her weight for her and suddenly she was standing.

''That's it Maura!'' He exclaimed. ''Very well child!''

She gave him a weak smile and swayed slightly but she felt him steady her. At nine and forty the Maester remained a strong and agile man. Her legs buckled but she pushed through the pain and took another step. She knew she was shaking and on the next step she couldn't take any more.

The Maester helped her back int her chair and waited until her breathing had evened before he spoke. ''You are doing very well Maura, in another moons turn you will be able to walk around your chamber freely.''

She was in too much pain to offer an opinion on the matter but there was something else she wished to ask of him.

''Maester, how is Jane doing?''

He cleared his throat. ''Maura dead, you should not be asking this of me, what would your betrothed say? He forbade us the mere mention of her name.''

''Please Maester, you need to tell me! I need to know if she's...''

''She's still with us, that's all I can say.'' He laid a hand on her shoulder. ''I suggest you visit your betrothed instead of asking inappropriate questions.

It had fallen upon the Maester to treat Jane after her punishment had been fulfilled. None of the other Maesters of Lord Whitebraid, or the one traveling with the Royal family had been allowed to treat her, direct order from the Prince himself, yet Cavanaugh took orders only from Lord Doyle and the Prince would not dare cross the Northern Lord.

They left for King's Landing the following morning and Maura caught word that Jane would be coming along in one of the carts, with Maester Cavanaugh.

As if having to deal with Jane's absence wasn't enough she also had to deal with Cailyn's stubbornness and childing behaviour. The younger Lady Doyle was not only avoiding her but on the occasion they did meet at the breakfast table she had proceeded to ignore her. She had responded with silence to every question Maura had asked her and Lord Patrick had not tried to discipline her in the least.

What was worst was... Maura knew why Cailyn was acting this way, but there was not a thing she could do about it.

The Castle was huge and the city full of noise as they rode by. She had never seen so many people gather in one place, going on about this or that, selling fish and bread and fruit, and naked children running and splashing in the fountains.

She had changed the furs she wore for a light dress and she could feel the sun on her skin, burning like it had never before. It had taken a full week to ride from Lord Whitebraid's Castle to King's Landing, during which she had seen neither Jane, nor Prince Garret. Her most common visitor had been the Maester and Efa, her chambermaid.

They dined with the Prince and the Royal couple that evening. Garrett seemed to have recovered form his unfortunate clash with Jane in the woods. Queen Emily refrained from the general chattle, quite uncharacteristically, Maura noted.

The King announced he would be leaving upon the morrow, a great bear had been sighted and he wanted to make a gift of it for his son's wedding feast. Preparations were being made and the wedding would begin in seven days, a number holy after the seven Gods of the free cities in the south, and it would last just as long. Despite the events of the previous days, Maura could not help the tingle of excitement that overcame her at the thought of becoming a princess, it was a dream come true, especially now that she knew she would be able to stand on her own two legs for the ceremony.

After dinner she took a walk, well Garrett walked and she followed in her rolling chair, into the castle gardens, and she was served honeyed tea and lemon cakes. Prince Garrett once more told her how beautiful she was and offered her a white rose. She took it in her hand to smell its fresh aroma, but before she could a man approached them.

He wore a light leather jerkin and britches and Maura recognised him as Lord Hoyt. He wasn't a tall man, but there was something threatening in the way he moved. A little red man was sown over his left breast – the flayed man of house Hoyt.

''Prince Fairfield.'' He whispered, though nobody was around to hear. ''How fares your lady?'

He answered for her without giving her time to speak for herself. ''She is enjoying her stay at the castle.'' Maura had opened her mouth but closed it and smiled instead.

Lord Hoyt gave a small bow.

''I have heard whispers of things will interest you, my Prince.''

''We shall discuss these matters in private.'' Prince Garrett said sharply. ''it is not fit to mention these unpleasantnesses in front of my betrothed, Lord Hoyt.''

''I apologies.'' His smile remained and something about the man made the hairs in the back of Maura's neck rise.

He gave another bow and walked off. Garrett turned to her, his smile apologetic.

''Do forgive him my sweet Maura, there has been war of a usurper from the south, coming to claim the throne. We soon might be at war and Lord Hoyt is a valuable source of information.''

''My father has mentioned the threat but I had not realised there was a threat of war.'' She held the rose close to her ace ad inhaled. Her mind went back to what Jane had said. The daughter of Aerys Targaryen was alive and she had an army of Unsullied warriors and Dothraki screamers. Daenerys Targaryen was putting together an army to reclaim her father's throne, now Maura knew.

''This is the reason we are to be wed so soon. The realm needs to stand together. We will bring the north and south to stand united by marriage against the userper's army.''

She shouldn't let slip that she knew about the Targaryen usurper. She smiled again and he added...

''All the better, for I cannot bear t be far from you, my lady.''

He kissed her on the cheek and bid her goodnight then, heading back to his chambers to meet with Lord Hoyt.

She managed to walk across her room the next morning, unaided, before her legs gave, and the Maester helped her back to her chair.

''You are doing excellent, my child.'', he said and instead of replying he looked at him pleadingly.

''Please Maester, let me see Jane, please.''

''You know I cannot do that, Maura, it would be improper-''

''Please! Just for a minute, I need to see that she's okay!''

The man sighed. ''Maura...'' he fussed with the folds of his robes. ''She is asleep, we are giving her milk of the poppy until she heals enough-''

''I just want to see her, then I'll leave... please!''

Something in the way she looked at him, almost teary, it got to him. He hated watching her suffer so much, and, though he did not know why exactly, he knew that Maura had taken a liking to the Astapori woman.

''Only from outside the door. And she won't know you're there, she's in deep sleep.''

''Thank you!'' She held onto his sleeve and smiled. ''Thank you so much!''

''Nobody ca find out about this, your betrothed would loathe so.'' His face was stern but his heart was soft for her.

''Where is she?'' She asked with excitement.

''There's a chamber adjoined to mine.'' She pushed her chair out the door. Getting her down the stairs was painstaking. She finally stopped and rose from the chair, leaning on the Maester. It felt good to take those steps on her own. She walked the corridor swaying, a little with his help but mostly n her own and reached for the door handle. She walked in and turned into the adjoining room.

Jane was lying on her side, facing an open window. Her back was bare, wrapped with heavy linen. Her lips were slightly parted, carelessly casual. Maura might have agreed to simple see her from a distance but now something in her body urged her to move, to touch her, to trace the brutal cut on the side of her head, the grooves a slash of the week had left on her sharp cheekbone.

She was pale but her features were relaxed and calm. Maura was leaning against the wall for support and the Maester rested a hand on her shoulder.

''I am taking care of her my Lady, do not worry.''

Before she had time to speak footsteps approached.

''Maura!'' It was Garrett's voice and she saw him come to the door. ''What in the seven Gods are you doing here?''

A stray sliver of light teased Jane's eyebrow and Maura wondered if she'd wake but she didn't.

''Maura! I have told you I never want you to see this woman again!''

She spun to see him and if he was surprised that she could walk he didn't show.

''I have warned you Maura, never undermine me!'' He paused and his eyes softened. ''A prince should never hit his lady.'' He sighed, and then gestured. ''Lord Warren...''

The blow came out of nowhere, and though open handed it was just as savage. She found herself sprawled on the wooden floor, hand to her face.

''I- I...'' She stuttered. ''I am sorry!''

''Get the Lady back to her chambers.'' Garrett ordered the Maester and Cavanaugh nodded.

Maura started to weep and the Prince turned on his heel and left, his riding boots thumping across the corridor.

Even as the Maester helped her wordless into her room, all she cold think was that someone was listening to her conversations and repeating them back to the Prince.

Realistically, it cold be anyone, a serving girl, a stable boy, anyone.

She had a strange visitor that night as she took her supper.

Lord Barold Fairfied came to share some wine with her.

''I heard what happened today, I have come to apologise for my nephew, the boy forgets his manners it would seem.'' He flashed her an impossibly white smile.

Maura nodded. ''Thank you Lord Barold, but the fault was mine, I should not have disobeyed him.'' She said carefully.

''Nonsense dear, he is a stubborn one, my nephew. He acts like a child.'' He took a sip from his wine. ''I heard your legs are better, is this true, my Lady?''

''A little, yes.'' She forced a smile. ''Thank you, the Maester says it will take time, but yes.''

''This brings me such joy to hear.'' He reached into his tunic. ''I have a message for you.

''A message?'' She asked surprised. She could not think of anyone who would send a message to her and in this fashion.

''From Jane.'' He handed her a folded piece of parchment and she hesitated.

Was it a tick? A cruel jape from Garrett or maybe a test? Could she trust this man?

''My betrothed won't allow this...'' she tested.

''Do not worry my lady, your secret it safe with me.''

She took it and careful unfolded it. Inside the handwriting was sharp and crude and she knew it was Jane's.

''Do not come back.'' it read, the Astapori had used some of the few words Maura had taught her how to write.

''What is the meaning of this?''

''I do not know my lady, but for now it does seem like a good idea. Things will only get harder when the marriage is fulfilled.''

She held the letter to her chest and wiped her eyes. She couldn't know if Jane was angry at her or merely trying to protect her. It could be either or both.

''Thank you.'' She said and he smiled those perfect teeth again.

''Are you in pain, my Lady?'' He asked, examining the dark bruise on her right cheek. She had forgotten about it.

''No my Lord, thank you.''

''Sweet Maura...'' He said quietly. ''Why are you so persistent about this marriage?''

''What kind of talk is this, Lord Barold? Prince Garrett is your nephew!'' She deflected.

''It is not too late my lady.'' He held his hands up. ''I meant no offense.''

Maura knew he was right, it was not too late but she realised she loved him. She had loved Garrett from the first minute she had seen him and though the thought terrified her she knew she could not change it.

''My Lady, I know you have taking a liking to the wildling. Could I perhaps be of service and carry a message to her for you?''

He seemed genuine, Maura thought. She did want to see Jane, that much was true, but could she risk it being discovered?

''That would be unwise...'' She begun but Lord Barold smiled.

''You have nothing to fear from me my lady, your secret will not be revealed by me.''

She hesitated, then reached for ink and parchment and wrote down only three words, words she knew Jane would understand.

Forgive me.

She rolled it and handed it to Lord Barold. ''I will deny ever writing this.'' She said in a serious tone.''

''Of course.'' He nodded. ''I will make sure this is delivered.''

At the same time Maura and Lord Barold discussed, another meeting took place. Lord Patrick stood over the bed Jane was sat,staring intensely at the Astapori woman.

''What you speak of is treason.'' He said sternly.

She shifted against the pillows behind her and grimaced. ''I am aware.''

''Can you offer proof of this?'' He pressed, taking a seat close to her. It was dark and only a single candle illuminated the room.

''I know the the King's Hand before you was assassinated because he found out.'' She reached and took a sip of wine from her cup.

''What you say cannot be true.'' He stated. ''Robert would know if his son was a bastard.''

''Garrett Fairfield is not the King's son.'' Jane insisted. ''He is a spawn of the Queen's incest, any of Robert Fairfield's bastards have a bigger claim to the throne than Prince Garrett.''

''How could you know all this?'' He wanted her to be wrong, that Prince was going to marry his daughter!

''It is amazing what people discuss before you when they think you're mute and slow witted, or when don't notice you in the shadows. There are tunnels all over this castle, running under every chamber and people in this castle do talk.''

''The words of Chambermaids-''

''The Queen herself visited Lord Hoyt. Did you know they plan to elevate Lord Warren to the Hand's position?''

''The Hand? That is impossible! I am the Hand of the King!''

''Not for long.'' She cut in. ''Not if you're not careful.''

He scratched his beard in thought. ''I need more proof than the word of some lowborn, and a woman no less, if I am to bring this to Robert.''

Jane took no offense, she knew none was meant. ''Then by all means Lord Patrick, you are free to find your own proof. But I beg of you, take your daughter and leave this castle because soon the King will be dead.''

''What?'' He looked at her in horror, unable to make out her face in the candlelight.

''The King will die before the moon turns.'' She whispered. ''And when he does there will be nobody to protect you and Maura from all those that will claim his throne. So beware and be prepared, and in the meanwhile I will set our plan in motion.''

The next morning the Doyle Family broke their fast together. Lord Patrick pretended to believe that the bruise on Maura's face was courtesy of a fall off her chair.

He had however been informed of the incident by Jane, who in turn had heard all about it by Lord Barold. He had heard about it from Gods know who, himself. People in this castle really did talk.

What concerned Maura was not how sullen her father's face was, she was used to it, but Cailyn's absence. She finished her breakfast quickly and and excused herself to look for the younger Lady Doyle. A brief question to the chambermaid revealed that Cailyn was taking her meal in the kitchens, as she had sometimes before. Maura sighed and slowly headed there, Korsak following her.

The stairs towards the lower levels of the castle, where the kitchens were, proved to be harder than she had expected and midway she had to pause and catch her breath. Despite the effort and the pain it still felt good, regaining some of her old strength and independence. She knew there was a place where the cooks and serving girls took their meals and where Cailyn would probably be. The young Lady Doyle had taken quite a liking to one of the younger maids and Maura would often find them together.

Suzanna was seventeen, of age with Maura, but far more childish and petite. She was one of Maester Cavanaugh's assistants and she was always helping him dress wounds and ease fevers. She knew a lot about helping with the sick but she didn't mind playing with Cailyn and helping her with her needlework. She was though bastard born, her father some unknown drunkard or the other, and however much Maura felt sympathetic towards her she knew it was improper to associate herself with such.

Cailyn, she assumed, would be with her. She asked one of the cooks who seemed surprised to see her, if he knew were Suzanna was and he gestured to one of the doors at the far side of the hall.

''She's got company though.'' he said, and Maura gave him a smile.

''I know, thank you.''

She let Korsak roll her chair across the room but she chose to stand resting her weight on her good leg before knocking on the door gently. She wanted to get as strong as she could fr her wedding to come.

She waited a few heart beats and wen nobody answered she pushed the door open, wondering if this was some joke Cailyn was playing, pretending they weren't there, or if the girl was merely avoiding her, still angry about what had happened by the river.

Cailyn was most definitely not in that room.

Jane was though, sat in a chair, Suzie straddling her lap as the Astapori kissed her neck, her hands on the smaller girl's waist.

Maura took a step back, just as Jane saw her. She didn't seem the least embarrassed but Suzanne definitely was and flushed when she turned and saw Maura, he arms still around Jane's neck.

Maura shut the door, trying to shake away the shock and bumped into Cailyn.

''Maura, what are you doing here?''


	9. The little Wolf in the Lion's den

_**Thanks for bearing with me, to all those of you reading sorry this took a while, it's a large chapter lol.**_

 _ **Clody, point taken about the author's notes and worry not I always finish the stories I start. I insisted on the first chapter because I wanted to now if people were interested enough for me to invest in this story or stop and take it down. This story is here to stay and will be finished, I have quite the plans for it. I am glad you are reading and hope you enjoy this chapter.**_

 _ **Incendio Verum re Emily Stern. Well, there is more than meets the eye in the queen haha, there is definitely some connection there, just wait n see ;)**_

 _ **To the guest talking about spelling and grammatical errors, sorry! This is my second language and I often type this out when I'm home from work at like 1-2 am, mistakes happen, I've tried to proofread this chapter better this time. Thanks for pointing out and hope you enjoy!**_

 _ **Sweetkid45 Rizzles on the way I promise!**_

 _ **The rest of you, I love y'all but you're gonna hate me after this chapter...sorry.**_

 _ **LK**_

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Chapter 8

''Maura what are you doing here?'' asked the girl, taking in her sister's messy state.

''Sorry...'' The Doyle Lady muttered and turned to Korsak, who helped her in her chair and begun wheeling her across the hall, just as Jane opened the door and looked out, Suzanne trying to see over her shoulder.

She didn't call out for Maure or make a move to stop her but she did bend down and whisper something in Cailyn's ear. The girl nodded and run to her sister. Jane waited for her to reach Maura and then she retreated back into the room, leaning to pull Suzanne into another kiss as she closed the door.

Maura was crying when Cailyn grabbed the armrest of her chair.

''Sister!'' She said, resting a hand on Maura's arm. ''What is the matter? Why are you crying?''

Maura in fact did not know. Who was she to have a word to say about who Jane took as her lover? Both women were low born, commoners, nothing about the matter was inappropriate, it was none of her business...

''My leg hurts, sweet sister.'' She smiled apologetically. ''I was looking for you, you were not at the breakfast table this morning.

''Yeah I had some eggs with Jane and Suzie.'' The girl grinned. The anger that she had towards Maura seemed to have dissipated in the face of her sister's tears.

''I missed you Cailyn.'' She said quietly, wiping her face as she dismissed Korsak and allowed the little Lady to help her wheel her chair.

''I was so angry at you...'' Cailyn muttered. ''For what you let them do to Jane...''

''I'm sorry.''

''I know you like her, so what happened?'' Cailyn stopped and stared at Maura.

''I might like Jane Cailyn but I love my husband. I'd do anything for him.''

''Would he? For you?'' The girl asked.

Maura raised her eyebrows. ''Would he what?

''Would he do anything for you?''

''That is not my place to ask.''

Cailyn sighed in response and helped her sister back to her chambers.

The same night a note arrived with Lord Barold. He smiled at her, as always and then retrieved a piece of dirty parchment from the inside of his tunic.

She unrolled it and inside found Jane's crude handwriting. A single word.

 _Danger._

''What does that mean?''

''I am afraid I cannot tell you. Jane knows more than I do.''

''She thinks I'm in danger...'' Maura murmured.

''It would seem so.''

In the meanwhile Lord Doyle was having a very interesting conversation with the castle Maester.

''I've heard that the Hand before me has died quite suddenly. '' He was saying.

Maester Marcus, a short and stubby man eyed him curiously with his little black eyes. ''Yes.'' He mumbled. ''It looks like some disease spread to his insides.''

''I see.'' Lord Patrick stroked his beard. ''Was there anything he was doing before he died?''

''Doing on about his Grace's business, as usual, my Lord.''

Lord Patrick took a sip from his wine cup. Inside his jerkin was a note in crude hand writing.

 _Hand poisoned._

He knew who had left this note by his bed at night, but he wasn't sure why.

''Are you sure about this, Maester?''

''Definitely.'' The Maester was stuffing his face with the dry figs that accompanied their wine, bits of them tangled in his beard.

''I'd like to see his work chambers.'' He said and the Maester could but comply.

John Aeryns chambers were nothing but practical. It contained only the necessities but was full off books. Lord Doyle was aware of the Maester hovering over his shoulder as he sat in his predecessors chair.

Lord Doyle had not as yet moved to the Hand's chambers but planed to as soon as the wedding was through. There was a single book open atop his desk and he flipped it over. It was simple boring book, containing nothing but ancestry.

''This is the book of-'' he went to say something else but Patrick stopped him. ''Thank you.'' He was dismissive enough that even the Maester realised he was unwanted and left with a small bow. When he was finally alone Lord Patrick flipped idly through the pages that turned to the one the book had been open on. There was simple nothing of significance on the book he had in his hand and he rose to his feet with a heavy sigh and went to place it in the book case on the opposite wall. Yet as he did a slip of paper fell out the book and fluttered away, caught momentarily on the breeze coming through the window. He bent and picked it up, planning to throw it away, or tuck it back in, thinking it part of a torn page, but he stopped to read the shaky hand atop it.

 _In the past few weeks I have come to fear for my life. If you are reading this I am most certainly dead. My death has been part of a conspiracy against the throne and the realm. The fever has overtaken me and I fear that my end is drawing close. The King needs to know that the realm is in danger, but they will not allow me audience, for fear my mysterious disease will cause him harm. No trusted servant is allowed to see to my needs. I am surrounded by enemies, you are the last hope of the throne, King Robert has to know that_

 _the prince_

 _King_

 _BASTARD_

 _enemies enemies enemies, they draw near, enemies, death, I die_

 _BASTARD_

Lord Doyle could tell exactly the minute when the previous hand had succumbed to the feverish madness that often overtakes men before they die. The rest of the text was a mess of smudged ink and unintelligible words. He could not know what part of what Lord Aeryn had written was true and what was fever induced fantasy but it served only to strengthen the seed of doubt that the Astapori woman had planted in his mind.

And yet he could not bring his own biased opinion to the king. His honour dictated he find proof beyond mere speculation and he knew what had to be done.

Queen Emily's guards tried to stop him, to to the impropriety of the hour but none dared defy the King's hand going about his Grace's business.

She greeted him with annoyance, wearing a long crimson robe that did little to hide how attractive a woman she was.

''Your Grace.'' He said.''My apologies, have I awakened you?''

''I do hope the matter is urgent, Lord Doyle.''

If all of Jane's talk was true then every single one of the many bastards Robert Fairfield had fathered with whores and tavern wenches had twice the claim to the Iron throne that Prince Garret had. Which meant that his wedding to Maura was far more complicated than Lord Patrick first thought.

''I assure you it is, your Grace.''

''What could be so important it couldn't wait until the morrow, my Lord.'' She asked with a heavy sigh, sitting down in a deep chair.

''Your Grace, it has come to my attention that a rumor might be circulating this castle.'' He tried to ease her into the subject.

''A rumor? You have awakened me for a rumor? Of what sort?''

''With most respect your Grace, but my duty is to my King and the realm. I shall ask this clearly of you, pray forgive my bluntness.'' He remained standing, towering over her. ''Is there any truth in the talk about you and Ser Jaime.''

''Excuse me?'' She looked up with surprise.

''There has been talk in court that might damage Prince Garrets claim to the throne. ''

Then she suddenly smiled and rose. She cupped his cheek ever so gently. ''Lord Patrick, be careful.'' She kissed his cheek. ''A lot of bad things happen in this castle to good and loyal people like you.''

She was not denying the accusation, why wasn't she at least defending herself?

''Your Grace!'' He tried, but she had already wrapped her arm around his waist.

''You have a very beautiful daughter, Lord Patrick. Pray, be careful for the things you do might cause her grave harm.''

And open threat. He steeled himself and pulled away.

''Take your children and leave King's Landing before dawn.'' He rasped. ''For when Robert find out his rage will consume us all.''

She laughed and sat back down. ''You forget, my Lord, my royal husband is out in the forest hunting boar.''

''When he returns-''

''When he returns we will discuss the matter, I promise you this.'' She waved her hand dismissively. ''Low leave, you have disturbed enough for one night.''

Baffled Lord Patrick left. His next stop was Maester Cavanaugh's chambers but it was not the Maester he wanted to see, but the Unsullied soldier.

She was in a plain shirt and pants and did not comment on the fact that he had come to see her at such late hour.

''Lord Doyle.'' She bowed her head in acknowledgment and sat back on the bed. She looked like she had lost weight since the last time he saw her, a result of her royal ''punishment'', no doubt. ''I trust you now have your proof.''

He nodded.

''What need you of me, my Lord.''

''I have already told you. Your success is now more important than it ever was.'' He dragged a chair and sat as she lit a candle. ''We have to keep Maura safe. You're the only one in this castle that I can trust with my daughter's life.''

She rubbed her eyes. ''I am honoured, yet confused. Do you not have any of your House Guards about you?''

''I am not willing to put Maura's life in danger in order to prove the integrity of my people.''

''This is the single most clever decision you have made in the entire time I have known you, Lord Doyle.'' She closed her eyes. ''I will do all which is within my power, you can trust in that.''

''For this I will be eternally indebted to you. It seems that the minute one of my debts to you is paid another forms.'' He smiled.

''As long as the Prince does not have me killed first.'' She reached for the wound on the side of her face, a result from the rock someone had flung at the flogging site. She could still hear residual ringing in her ears, every so often.

''You need to understand that Maura could not have interfered-''

''Oh I understand, my Lord, fear not.'' She cut him off. ''You will hear from me upon the morrow.

He rose from his seat. ''Sleep well, Jane Snow.''

''Per chance to not dream.'' She muttered, blowing out the candle.

A letter and a glass of summer wine arrived at Maura's cambers with Lord Barold the next evening. Maura had spent a day full of getting dresses and jewels fitted for her. The wedding was but a day away and her maids were in a frenzied dance around her chambers. Tomorrow would be worse, she'd need to wake at first Light and then the preparation would be endless, full of bathing and scrubbing and scenting, all for the first night with her royal husband, Prince Garret.

''These are days of such joy.'' Lord Barold said. She nodded politely.

''Thank you for the wine, my Lord.'' She held up the rolled parchment. ''And for this.'' She kept her eyes in him in silent question as she unrolled it.

''I am not aware of its contents, Lady Doyle.'' He assured her.

She read it. It held no more words than the first one had but they made the blood drain off her face.

Trust no one.

Something else had been written below that, but the writer, Jane, had scrawled over it with a rough hand, making it unintelligible. She run a finger over the words, she could almost see how long a process it was for the Astapori, tracing the words slowly with the quill, as if she held a sword and scraped the parchment.

''You care for her.'' Lord Barold noted.

She nodded.

''I-...'' Maura swallowed. ''She is so... angry with me.''

''I cannot speak for Jane but you Lady Doyle are not a woman one can easily stay angry with for a long time.''

''You are always such a flattered, Lord Barold.''

''One does not use flattery when merely stating what he knows to be true.''

''You are doing it again.'' She laughed.

The rest of the evening passed with the ease of Lord Barold's presence. She heard nothing of Jane for the rest of the day. Her anxiety was mounting as time went by. The King had not returned from his hunting trip and she did not wish the wedding to be postponed, from fear the Fairfields would, given enough time, change the view on the marriage and call it off.

When night came she found that she need not worry. A raven arrived and Garret read it out to them. It had the King's seal and it was signed by His Grace, bidding him to begin the proceedings, for he is on his way and would arrive in time for the wedding feast.

Maura caught sight of the Queen rolling her eyes. It did not seem to be the first time King Robert made a late appearance.

Nobody opposed the Prince, of suggested the wedding be delayed and so the madness of the preparation commenced.

She was awakened at first light and the most important day of her life begun. A maid spent what felt like an eternity braiding her hair around her head, while two others scrubbed her clean with hot water and scented ointments.

The gown she was presented with was the softest she had ever touched. Light blue with white pearls around the neckline, simple and yet beautiful.

Everyone was present at the wedding breakfast. Her betrothed helped her out of her rolling chair and into the one next to his. He was dressed in a crimson cape with large open sleeves and full gold tracery. He smiled at her as Lord Doyle stood before them, presenting them with a golden chalice as their wedding gift and wished them long and happy marriage. Lords and Ladies of the court came and went, leaving their gifts as they took their breakfast.

If she had found the breakfast dress beautiful, the wedding dress was simply gorgeous.

It was long and pure white, made out of the lightest and finest silk. It's loose sleeves rustled over her arms like cool river water and it flowed freely behind her life a wave, or, more accurately, like a trail of snow. The only colour, a wide gray belt around her waist with the wolf Siegel of house Doyle embroidered with fine thread and an emerald necklace that brought out the light in her eyes.

''My Lady, you look wonderful.'' her maid announced.

The heavy sept was nothing like the plain Godswood her father had practiced his faith. It was bigger and more imposing in every way. Her heart was thumping so loud she never heard a word of the prayers read from the seven pointed star, the book containing the holy texts of the faith. She only realised the time had come when her father took her by the arm, kissed her cheek and led her down the aisle, draping a cloak with the Doyle wolf over her shoulders.

Her betrothed awaited between the statues with the septon, in all his crimson glory.

''You may now cloak the bride under your protection.'' The septon announced and Prince Garret removed her cloak and put his own over her shoulders, bringing her into his family.

''- One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.'' The Septon was saying. ''Look upon each other and say the words.''

She watched him, the way his soft lips moved along with hers as they held hands.

''Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Crone, Stranger...'' Her breath caught in excitement when he spoke his last sentence.

''I am hers and she is mine, from this day until the end of my days.''

''... -until the end of my days.'' She replied breathlessly.

''With this kiss I pledge my love.'' He leaned in and kissed her for the very first time, the sweet taste of his lips against hers, his hands around her body. She closed her eyes and for the first time she forgot the pain of her injured legs. When she opened them again everyone was applauding. She noticed her father had a strange glimmer in his eyes and little did she know it had nothing to do with him being moved by her wedding.

There was to be a feast right after the end of the first round of the tourney.

Her gallant husband had demanded that as it was common for royal weddings a tourney be held for the men of the realm and now he eased her back to her chair that awaited outside the sept, to help her to the viewing platform. She realised how weak her knees had been only when she lowered herself into her seat.

Two members of the city watch took hold of her chair and lifted her easily into the raised platform that awaited her and her Prince. They were served cool wine, which they shared from the golden chalice her father gifted them for their wedding and.

The first part of the tourney was open only to anointed knights only twelve men were allowed to participate. Garrett was so excited that he proceeded to explain every little thing to her about jousting. The strong horses and what plates each man chose, their weapon- She of course cheered on all the appropriate times but she was much too preoccupied staring at her new husband that all else went over her head.

They were served sweet honeyed figs and other small delicacies for now, since the wedding feast would hold dozens of different plates after the end of today's jousting and melee.

The melee however, the second part of the tournament did catch Maura's attention. She had seen jousting before, but never before had she seen men fight for a competition like this.

Their names were written in slips of paper, scrambled in a silver bowl.

''My Lady wife...'' Garrett said, offering the bowl to her. ''Would you do me the honour of drawing the first pair for the duels.''

Hesitantly, but eager to please her husband she slipped her hand into the bowl and selected a piece of paper, then another. Garrett read them and two men of noble birth came forward. They were both quite able bodied and strong, the fight was full of savage hacks and blows, since they both fought with longswords. In the end the older of the two, out of breath and on his knees was forced to yield.

The second match was less impressive. Since the melee was open for everyone, even commoners, it ended up with an anointed knight paired against a peasant with rusty armour, who tried to match the reach of a long sword with a much shorter ax. A blow to the head with a blunted tourney sword dropped him unconscious and that was it.

The third match though, that was much more interesting. The first man was a burly brute with huge heavy arms and an ever bigger belly, yet impressive at over six feet. The second man was a mystery knight, someone who entered the competition anonymously, with a helm over his face and a blank shield. He was shorter, close to five ten or five eleven and much slighter than his opponent.

It was clear that there was a huge weight difference between the two, even more so with the heavy man wearing full plate and armour, whilst the mystery knight wore only helm and shield and a sleeveless leather vest instead.

The crowd of noblemen and noblewomen looked intrigued as the big man hurled his weight into the mystery knight. He seemed to float away, his soft leather boots raising a puff of dust as his feet moved him away from what would have been a devastating blow.

The big man hugged and spat at the mystery knight's feet. ''Bloody dancin' are we?'' He roared a laugh. ''I eat little boys like you for breakfast!''

There was no reply from the other man. They fought with equal weapons, heavy blunted swords that would not cut and slice but could easily break ribs and crack a skull open if the blow landed. The difference was in the way they carried them. The big man would grasp it two handed, getting his full weight behind savage blows, while the mystery knight stayed continuously outside his range.

Soon the fat man was sweating heavily and hunching forward in exhaustion. Maura could see the lean muscles of the mystery knight's bare arms work feverishly as he avoided blow after blow and then, when it was least expected...

He jumped, leaping over the big man's extended sword and brought down his own, shattering his opponent's left knee cap and driving him to his knees. Then again, at his right shoulder, shattering his clavicle into his chest where the plate of his armour ended.

He crumbled like a tree struck by lightning. There was a brief minute of silence and then a cheer erupted from the crowd. The mystery night bowed deeply and a lady in the crowd squealed with delight. He reached into his saddle pouch and produced a single white rose. He walked across the fighting arena and stood before the platform Maura was seated. He went down on one knee and left the rose at her feet. Then, wordless he mounted his horse and galloped away, the crowd cheering on hysterically.

Maura looked t Garret, waiting for his approval.

''A Lady should always be courteous to the affectations of men. It is only natural a man would notice such a beauty.'' He was smiling as she picked up the flower and held it against her chest. Garrett seemed, in some off way, flattered that the woman he was now married to was so desirable that one would risk being killing by the royal guards for approaching her. It seemed he was finding some sort of kinship and excitement in the man's effort to impress his Lady.

The test of the tourney was unsurprising. After the melee and archery exhibition was held, and finally when that was over the wedding feast begun. The second- and final- phase of the tourney was to be held upon the morrow.

The wine was rich and ample. People were dancing and singing all around her. And the food, the food was amazing. The roast, the piece, the cheese and fruit, it was all the very best the Kingdom had to offer. Soon the wine went to her head, or was it because Garrett was kissing her again? The cup they shared would never empty, always full of gold and red and the plates passed before them while the music still played.

It was late into the night that the bedding ritual begun. At that point Maura was way too happy and had way too much wine in her to mind that a group of men raised her over their heads and carried her towards the matrimonial chambers while removing bits of her clothing on the way.

She could hear parts of japes and dirty puns that were too incomplete to make sense of. Without realising she found herself lying in a soft bed, naked, Garrett smiling as he joined her.

* * *

The shadows in this castle move on their own, Maura thought absently. The bed next to her was cold, a rider had come into the night, requesting audience with her husband. The music was very distant, it could be outside the castle walls, that how far it felt. The open window creaked and a light chill run up her bare leg.

''Maura...''

Another tear rolled down her cheek. The voice was way too far to be real.

''Maura.'' The bed shifted and the voice grew louder, closer.

She looked up in numb surprise then, to find that she was not alone in the chamber anymore.

''My sweet Lady, what has happened?''

''Jane...?'' She called out, to make sure the silhouette was not a dream.

Jane drew her into her lap, helping her pull the covers over herself. ''He did this to you...''

In the pale moonlight she reached to wipe a smear of blood off Lady Doyle's face.

Maura did not think she could cry anymore but in the end she did. It tore through her, full body wrecking sobs that she kept quiet by sheer willpower.

''It's alright...'' The figure that she hoped was Jane said. Could it be just a dream to comfort herself? ''I am so sorry my Lady.'' It whispered. ''We should never have allowed this to happen.

Maura did not care that she did not understand what Jane was talking about, cradled as she was against the Unsullied warrior's chest, in the same bloody sheets she had been lying upon for hours. It took another whisper to catch her attention through the haze.

''The King is dead.''

* * *

 ** _Okay so on a scale of 1-10 how much do you hate me for this wedding right now? I did say I was sorry... pls show me some love in the reviews lol_**

 ** _hope you had as much fun with this as I did!_**  
 ** _next chapter coming soon!_**

 ** _LK_**


	10. David and Goliath

Chapter nine

She did not care. Neither for the fact that she was naked nor that a fully dressed Astapori soldier was holding her. She cried and cried until she eventually exhausted herself and heavy eyelids rolled over tired eyes.

She woke as a wet cloth was run over her face.

''My lady.'' The deep rumble greeted her. ''Forgive me but I must depart before your husband returns.''

She was suddenly self conscious about her lack of clothes but she found herself comfortably covered by soft and heavy linen. She was also clean; the bruises on the back of her arms stood out, yellowing already, but any remnants of blood had been cleaned away.

''Please... don't leave.'' She reached for Jane's forearm and held on. ''Don't leave me...''

She felt her shift her body under hers and pull her closer, until she lay on the Astapori's chest.

''As you wish.''

She opened her eyes, willing the tears away as she looked into Jane's darkened face. She reached up to trace the savage wound upon her brow, a remembrance of the nameless man that had flung a rock at her from the crowd at her punishment site.

''I am so sorry they did this to you.'' She whispered as Jane stood unflinching.

''Please do not apologise my lady.'' She said in an equal whisper, accent strongly flavouring her words.

''You did not deserve to be punished.'' Maura withdrew her hand and pulled her knees up to her chest, resting against the other woman's body.

''My lady, where I come from a slave will be whipped for spilling their master's cup. It is not such oddity.''

''There are no slaves in the seven kingdoms. Nobody should be treated so.''

''Of course there are.'' Jane answered gently and caught herself softly stroking lady Doyle's hair, slowly unbraiding it. ''There are slaves everywhere as long as there are men both rich and poor. Who cooked for your wedding last night? Who braided your hair?''

''This is different, these are servants, they are not slaves...'' Maura found that she was growing sleepy under Jane's touch.

''Call me Jane, or call me rat, or unsullied, I am the same woman, despite the word you use for me.'' She helped her settle the covers tighter around them. ''Unsullied will always be slaves.''

She would have protested to that but she felt Jane move away. ''My queen.'' She heard her say and suddenly realised it was true.

With King Robert dead next in line for the throne was Garrett and that immediately made her...

''Jane...!'' She sat up abruptly.

'' I have to speak with your father. Suzanne will shortly come to bath and clothe you. She can be trusted.'' She gave a low bow, just as the sun started to rise from the window behind her. ''Your grace, you need to be prepared. Things are changing fast.''

She departed as swiftly as she had appeared and Maura assumed she had scaled down the window. As promised Suzanne walked into the chamber soon after. She washed and dressed her and Maura made her way slowly to break her fast, her rolling chair moving along the corridor.

She dreaded that her Lord husband would be there but she only saw Queen Emily. It surprised her to find neither him nor her father at the table.

''How fare you this morning, Lady Maura?'' the Queen asked sweetly.

Maura knew that the long sleeved gown Suzanne had helped her in covered the scratches and bruises she had sustained the night before and yet she still felt them under the rolls of fabric every time she moved.

''Quite well, your Grace.'' She lied.

''I trust that now the marriage has been consummated you will bear your King a strong heir.''

It was at that minute Maura realised how wrong this was. The King had died in the night and yet here stood his wife, breaking her fast as if nothing had happened.

''Your Grace!'' She said startled. ''Kind Robert! I am so sorry! What happened?''

''Oh sweet child.'' She laughed. ''My husband bit more than he could chew I'm afraid. A boar got him in the woods. It was bound to happen.'' She casually served herself a healthy portion of eggs and rich arbor gold. She drunk deepend let out a contented sigh.

''You will be pleased to find that my beloved son has not disrupted the wedding feast, it shall continue as it would.''

Maura was shocked. ''But King Robert-'' She opened her mouth to protest.

''King Garrett has commanded so.'' Queen Emily cut in. ''You should not speak ill of your husbands decisions.'' She took another long sip from her cup. ''He will be expecting you to join him this morning for the end of the melee tourney. He wants his queen by his side.''

''Of course.'' Maura lowered her head carefully. ''Pray, your Grace, have you seen my Lord Father?''

''Lord Doyle is somewhat preoccupied for the time being. I am sure he will speak with you soon as he can.''

Without more words exchanged other than pleasantries Maura finished her meal -the mere heel of bread she had managed to keep down- and she departed to find her Royal husband. A pair of guards accompanied her to the raised platform, from which the royal couple would watch the tourney that had already began. By that time her legs were already stiff and aching, even though she had not walked far, only across the yard.

Garrett was expecting her with a huge smile upon his face.

''I am so sorry to hear about your father, Garrett.'' She said with a tiny bow before she took her seat.

He leaned in and the gentle man that kissed her now was nothing like the savage he had been the night before.

''My sweet wife, seeing you by my side gives me strength in these times of hardship.'' He took her hand and kissed it as well. ''In a year you shall bear me a strong son to take my place on the iron throne when I grow old but for now I plan to rule better than my father ever could.''

There it was again, the expectation that soon she would be with child. Without thinking she laid a hand over her stomach, wondering if something could already be growing inside her. She was glad Garrett had his attention elsewhere and did not see her expression as she did so.

It was the mystery knight again, fighting with a short sword and shield against a man not much bigger than he. When the other man yielded Garrett clapped loudly, shouting his delight to the mystery knight's victory, who in turn bowed deeply.

It was no surprise by now that around mid day the mystery night was one of the two men that would fight for the title. Lord Barold had arrived and, however looking tired, he eagerly shared a platter of cheeses with his nephew. Maura however could get little down. He stomach churned and ached, almost twisted in a knot.

The mystery knight's opponent was the biggest man Maura had ever seen. In King's Landing they called him ''the Mountain'', for obvious reasons. He must have been close to seven feet tall, an impressive giant of muscle, with legs like trees and palms bigger that shovels. He would fight fully clad in his armour, adding to his already impressive weight and momentum.

''This should be quite the fight!'' Noted Lord Barold and Maura could detect a hint of unease in his voice. The Lord must not be a man of such violence, she thought, and she immediately liked him more for it.

''We shall make it much more so, uncle!'' Garrett said excitedly. ''It would honour my father truly, I feel.'' He slowly rose from his seat. ''This single combat shall be fought with real weapons and not blunted tourney blades.'' He said loudly, addressing the two men that waited for his signal to begin.

''Garrett...!'' Barrold laughed. ''You cannot be serious!''

''And why would I jape with such a thing uncle?'' Asked Garrett in a serious tone.

He turned to the two opponents.. ''You may have any weapons of choice with you. Fight to the death and the man who still draws breath shall ask of me what they will.''

A stack of weapons was brought out for the men. The Mountain chose the biggest longsword they had. The mystery knight seemed to consider his choice an then selected a dagger and a short spear, about three forearms length.

Maura had never seen anyone fight with a spear before and despite all she leaned forward with interest. Then she realised by the end of the day one of the men would die and the cruelty struck her. They had offered no protest to Garrett's order, because they were both certain they would win, but there was only room for a single victor.

Her husband seemed to have turned cruel over night, or perhaps he had always been.

The fight begun slowly. The big man hacked the air with his sword and laughed, aiming to intimidate the knight. The swords that any man would need both hands to grasp stood comfortably in one huge palm. The knight kept a good distance from the Mountain, in a way one would convey as fear, but Maura realised that he was waiting to gain the advantage of surprise against the bigger man.

The Mountain reached with one massive step forward and hacked a savage blow at the mystery knight. He brought his shield up just in time. The blow snapped the shield in pieces, spraying them both with splinters, but through the rain of shards the knight's spear sprung out, an extension of his arm.

The Mountain stepped away to avoid the weapon, but not before the spear drew a long bloody line starting above his left breast and over his shoulder, where the breastplate parted.

The big man mumbled some expletive or another and charged. Throwing his broken shield aside the mystery knight braced and jumped away from the range of the next blow. What he did not see was his opponent's shield. It came up to smash into his chest and head, making him stumble backwards a few paces. The crowd gasped as the mystery knight caught his breath and faltered.

The Mountain roared, slapping a hand over his chest, parading around the still dazed knight and cheering on the crowd. Then the mystery man was steady on his feet again and charging at him, dagger in his free hand since his shield was gone. The mountain swung his sword into a long arc that would swat down a charging opponent like a fly but the night was light, free of armour and heavy clothing and he rolled under the blow.

Suddenly the smaller man was behind him in one knee, slashing at the tendons behind his knee, the gap where two bits of armour joined. Blood sprayed his help as he quickly rose and stepped away from another massive blow.

The Mountain dropped on one knee, with a deep guttural groan. He cussed loudly and rose painfully. Blood dripped down his leg into the mud.

''Finish him!'' Yelled Garrett from his seat, startling Maura. ''Kill him now he cannot stand!''

And yet the knight waited, keeping his distance from the giant, who charged at him in blind fury. Horrified for the mystery man, Maura gasped and looked away as they clashed, armour on bare skin. The smaller knight scrambled to his feet quickly enough to avoid the swing of his opponent's longsword and then... he begun to run.

''Stop him!'' Garrett ordered and half a dozen knights of the city watch closed in on the running man. ''He must fight!''

But the night did not attempt to break through their line and escape. He leapt, planting a foot on a guard's chest and used his momentum to pivot and to propel himself higher and turn his body towards his opponent who had lowered his sword and watched with bemusement. The mystery knight's torso twisted violently in the air and to Maura he seemed to be ten feet high.

The short spear left his hand and traveled the short distance to lodge itself deep inside the mountain's chest, piercing through breastplate and sternum, and coming out between the Mountain's shoulders.

He collapsed to his knees, sword leaving his hand and blood pouring out of his mouth and nose. The mystery man landed on his feet, like a lion ready to pounce and waited. Finally the mountain fell forward, face first in the mud.

The crowd held it's breath for an instance and nobody moved. Then, without warning, they erupted into cheers, Garrett loudest of them all, bolting upright and clapping red-faced.

The knight approached the platform and Garrett bid him climb up. He dropped on one knee before the King and Queen, silent.

''You fought better than any man among my guards, sir.'' Garrett exclaimed, glancing at Maura for confirmation. ''Ask of me whatever your heart desires and if it is within my power it will be yours.''

The knight rose. ''I wish to be your Queen's guard.'' He said, loud for all the court to hear.

Garrett paused once more, glancing at Maura. ''My lady wife, would you allow this man to guard you and the heir that you will soon be carrying?'' He asked, like her opinion was of value to him, when they both knew it wasn't. He read in his eyes that he had already decided for her and it did not matter that she wouldn't want a stranger, let alone a man to be about her at all times, a man that she did not know or trust and could at any time do with her as he will, since she was helpless to defend herself. Maybe, she thought, maybe that was what Garret wanted, maybe he got off on the idea.

She said what he wanted to hear, a confirmation of her obedience for all to see.

''I will do as my King wishes.'' She bowed her head.

''It seems that no man would be more fit to protect my beautiful wife and son from the enemies of the realm. You may guard her with your life from now until the end of your days.'' Garrett said. ''That is my promise to you, before this entire court. Now rise and reveal yourself to the court, sir.''

The knight reached and removed his help. Maura was shocked to see that what fell out was a shock of long, dark curls.

''You!'' Garrett exclaimed angrily.

Maura laid a hand over her chest and whispered in disbelief what was plain before here.

''...Jane...!''


	11. What love feels like

**_Quick update, tuh-dun_**

* * *

Chapter ten

He could angrily command the guards to seize the insolent woman but he suddenly realised he was standing before his entire court. The entire strength of their alliance was in their unity. No house would follow a leader who broke the promise they made before thousands. He ground his teeth with unspoken anger.

''Jane Snow.'' He said carefully. ''If so much as a hair upon my wife's head comes to harm you will be killed.'' No one moved.

''You will be punished for your insolence once more, but I will spare your life.'' He could not disqualify her because she was a woman, she had proved her worth to everybody's eyes, nor could he kill her on any pretense, not without mucking up the alliance he had with the other houses.

''Your duties begin upon the morrow.'' He dismissed her with a wave of the hand and she bowed, then quickly scaled down the platform.

''My Lord and Ladies of the court.'' He continued. ''Surely you have all heard word of my father's demise. I have decided to end my wedding feast in honour of his name but there is one last thing you may all bear witness to.'' He snapped his fingers. ''Guards.''

Two men stepped forward and between them held a man with a blooded face that Maura almost did not recognise.

''Father!'' Her seat scraped back and her legs shook as she rose abruptly.

''It is distasteful that the day of my reign should be marked by the execution of a man thought loyal.'' He gestured and the men forced Lord Patrick to his knees. ''House Doyle as been loyal to the throne for as long as my father reigned, but this man has broken his vow to serve the realm. In truth, after my father's tragic death, he planned to claim the throne for himself, spreading an awful lie against the queen and myself.''

''You bastard!'' Lord Patrick hollered and the guard to his left silenced him with his boot.

''No.'' Garrett said. ''Let him speak his lie plain for all to see.''

''You are a bastard!'' Lord Patrick spat. ''Born of incest and adultery! You are a spawn of evil itself.'' His voice was raw but clear. ''You violated my daughter and claimed a throne you no right to!''

''My love...'' Garrett turned to her then, placing a kiss upon her head. ''It must be upsetting to hear such filthy lies from your beloved father, but you do realise that there are the words of a traitor. Speak the truth for all, my sweet wife, you need not fear. Have I hurt you?''

She felt the urge to reach and rub at the bruise below her tunic but she knew she couldn't. She looked down at the crowd and found Jane. Her eyes were wide, she had not known about this, how could she? She had been fighting at the tourney all morning.

She wished for the Astapori to do something, but she stood rigid, knuckles white around her spear. What could one soldier, however trained, do against hundreds of guards.

''Do I not show you my love, my sweet Maura?'' Garrett's voice forced her to look at him.

''I...'' She looked down at her father, silently watching her.

''Am I not a loving husband to you?'' She read in his eyes what he wanted.

''Of course.'' She said, so weakly she doubted anyone heard. ''Of course you are.'' He reached to help her sit back into her seat, but the hand on her arm had a painful iron grip that she knew would leave bruises the colour of midnight.

''I realise my queen is upset.'' He said kissing her brow. ''I do apologise for the impropriety of the occasion, it is after all our wedding feast. ''

''You monster!'' Lord Patrick shouted. ''Your mother herself admitted you are a bastard! King Robert murde-''

''Take this man away!''Garrett ordered.

''I shall decide this traitors fate after the feast.''

''No, father!'' Maura made a move towards the men dragging her father inside the castle but Garrett snapped his fingers and two guards got ah old of her.

''Please take my lady wife and escort her back to her chambers, she must be very upset.''

''Garret, don't, please!''

''Take her!'' He insisted, ignoring her frantic cries. ''You, bastard!'' There was no question as to and Jane came forward, unflinching at the insult.

''You may escort the queen to her chambers.''

She bowed and followed the direction of where the armed guards were taking Maura, carrying her on top her rolling chair as she cried out of Garrett.

She was graciously, if unkindly taken back to her chambers. It was then revealed to her that her husbands orders were to remain so, until his return. She reached and opened the door but found two guards posted outside.

Her father had just been accused for treason. Was he then found guilty punishment would be death. She could not believe that he would do such a thing but he had exposed himself before both king and court.

When the door opened she expected she would see her husband, but instead she was met with Jane's gaze.

''Your grace.'' She bowed lightly and took a post before her bedroom door. She was fully armed with both sword and spear but still not clad in armour. He side f her face was covered with bruises from where the Mountain's shield had struck her, and at the open neckline of her jerkin Maura saw that the bruises spread down her chest as well.

''Jane!'' She exclaimed. ''I am so glad you're alive!'' She rose, painfully, to walk up to her and touch her, to make sure she was there.

Jane took off her half helm and smiled gently. ''Thank you my lady.''

''What madness possessed you to fight against this beast!''

''It was all for you, lady Maura.''

''Did my father know of this?'' She asked sternly and Jane looked around to make sue they were alone. Then she leaned in to whisper in Maura's ear.

''It was all done under his orders.''

Maura's breath caught and had it not been for the severity of the situation she would have let herself be lost in the shivers Jane's voice brought and the smell of spices and flowers on her bare skin, as it brushed against her in the briefest of touches, long enough to utter a few words.

''Worry not, men like the Mountain are nothing for an Unsullied soldier.''

''My father, what is to be done with him?'' Maura urged.

''I am afraid I do not know, my lady. My orders are to stay by your side. Your father is a good man, though he acted in a rush of blood as men often are prone to.''

Maura's knees gave. She had not realised how tired and stiff her crooked legs were, especially without their treatment from the Maester the past few days.

Jane caught her around the waist and easily lifted her like a child in arms. ''Lady Maura, you should not strain yourself so.'' She said and Maura thought that only she could make the rough Astapori accent so gentle a sound.

''They cannot make him out to be a traitor Jane, he is a good man!'' She said between sobs.

Jane set her down on the bed as if she were made of glass. ''I am afraid I hold no power to prevent this, your grace. I can only serve as your guard.''

She realised what she had been trying to ask from Jane was not only treason in itself but also impossible. Slowly the Astapori removed something from a pouch about her waist.

''This was one of my favourite things back in Astapor.'' She said. ''Yet the weather is too cold here and they are a rarity.''

Maura had heard talk of such fruit but had never tasted one herself. She supposed that it was not possible to grow fruit of this sort in the snows of Winterfell. Jane took a seat on the bed by her side.

''Where did you find this?''

''The lady need not know all my secrets, or I shall become a bore extremely soon.'' Jane gave an insolent grin that did not match her courteous words. It was almost as if the polite content was just a game and the truth was hidden in her playful tone. Like a cat, Maura thought, seemingly polite but dangerous.

She watched her slice into the peel of the orange with measured cuts until the peel gave way to the fruit inside, blooming around it.

''What does it taste like?'' Maura asked as Jane carefully cleaned the white strings around it and split its core into slices. With a twinkle in her eye Jane held one perfect slice out for Maura.

''Like sunshine.'' She rasped.

The Lady considered the impropriety for a mere in instant before leaning in and taking the fruit between her teeth, straight from Jane's fingers. She was unnerved by the way the soldier never stopped watching her, as if she was doing something far different than just tasting an orange.

The fruit burst sweetly into her mouth and she hummed in surprise, chewing slowly. It was strong and sweet.

Jane reached and wiped the corner of Maura's lips with a square of cloth, where a drop of juice stood, shiny in the afternoon light. Maura blushed and very unladylike wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

''I am sorry, I did not expect it to be so-...'' She paused, considering her words. Wet. Juicy.

''Did you enjoy it?'' Jane asked and once more her tone was like an orange had been the last of the things she was referring to.

''Yes, very much, thank you!'' Maura rushed to answer and she couldn't help but feel she had just agreed to something unspoken.

Jane spread the cloth across Maura's lap and laid the rest of the orange. ''I will be right outside your door, my Lady.'' She said rising to her feet slowly. ''I am afraid they will try harm you, but my sword is yours and I shall give my life for you.'' No more games, she sounded serious now.

''Thank you, Jane.''

The Astapori bowed then exited. She sent away the guards by the door -she did not trust them.

Jane was used to standing guard for days on end. It was one of the most familiar tasks she had been given since arriving to King's Landing.

When Garrett arrived the sun had long since set. He strode purposefully across the corridor and smiled when he caught sight of her.

''I see my wife's bitch has not left her side.''

She stared at him, concerned about his extraordinarily good mood. It couldn't be a good sign.

''I trust you already know why I am here, bastard, shame you sent the guards away, I do love an audience.''

She stepped away for him to stride into the chamber. He stopped right before the door closed.

''Would you perhaps like to come inside with us and enjoy the view?''

She would have spat in his face, but for the fact he would have her head for it.

''It is such folly you put words in Lord Patrick's ear about the manner in which I enjoy my spousal privileges.'' He grinned and inside the room she caught a glimpse of Maura's wide eyes.

''He will not be a problem any longer though.'' He followed Jane's hand as it rested uneasily on her sword hilt. ''No man shall stand between me and my lovely wife. Enjoy your night, Jane.'' With that the door shut behind him.

It started with crashing and banging noises. Then through the delicate wood of the ornate door came a small sound that could be Maura's muffled crying, accompanied by a rhythmic thump-thump-thump.

A low grown started deep in Jane's chest, as she smashed her gloved fist into the wall. She could protect her Queen from all but the King himself. Instead she stood helpless for the eternity it took for him to finally leave, giving her a small laugh to return her glare, lacing his britches and walking.

She did not allow her own unease to delay her in joining Lady Doyle.

She found her in bed, as she had expected she would, but this time she seemed oblivious to her own nakedness as she lay still over the covers. At first Jane was not sure which was more shocking, the tale of cuts and bruises upon the Lady's body or the painful way her left leg lay.

''Sweet Maura.'' She whispered and Maura turned her eyes upon her hazily. She seemed fazed, as if unsure of where she was but she did not flinch when Jane touched her and laid her across her lap, and she begun cleaning her with a cloth she dipped to water from a copped basin.

''I am so sorry my Lady.'' She said gently, running the cloth gently down a pale arm. He sight of the naked body which should in any other case have been highly erotic, now brought to Jane emotions none of the sort. Slowly Maura started to cry and by the time Jane was pulling warm covers over her she was sobbing.

''I love him.'' She gasped between breaths, and Jane thought there was no way to hide the finger shaped bruises around her neck tomorrow. She looked like a small child, vulnerable without her pretty gowns and jewels, in the way she reached and clung to Jane's jerkin.

''I thought... I thought he loved me too.''

There was such pain and betrayal in her eyes Jane realised that she really believed her husband was capable of loving anybody.

''Is this what love feels like...?'' Maura asked, in a small, childish voice.

''No...'' Jane said thickly, wrapping a tentative arm around the one that clutched her clothes. ''This is.''

Then, ever so softly she leaned and kissed the corner of Maura's lips.

* * *

 ** _Something big is about to happen in the next chapter. Several somethings. Thanks for reading, leave me a comment with your thoughts_**

 ** _LK_**


	12. Diplomatic Tensions

_**Warning, warning. I should have mentioned this before, for earlier chapters, but there is a TRIGGER WARNING for this chapter, containing graphic contents. Thank you, thank you.**_

 _ **LK**_

* * *

Chapter 11

Jane had long since gone. The Maester came to see her and Maura assumed that this also had been Jane's doing. For the first time in days she got to work with her bent left leg and it hut worse than ever.

''My Lady.'' Maester Cavanaugh bowed. ''I have orders from your royal husband to help you into the yard once you are able.''

Suzanne walked into the chambers and as the door opened Maura saw Jane standing sentry, her back turned to the room.

Suzanne helped her into a plain long sleeved dress but there was little they could do about the dark bruises around her neck. Neither Maester Cavanaugh, nor the girl would never mention anything about her injuries and Lady Doyle wondered if Jane had instructed them so.

It was off that the tall figure of the Unsullied Soldier, spear by her side, did not bring any comfort to Lady Maura. The danger was not from some faceless assassin that Jane could use her spear against.

Slowly, the Maester rolling her chair and Jane's sword and spear rattling as she walked beside them, they made their way into the yard. The first thing that struck Maura as odd was the size of the crowd gathered. For all she knew the wedding feast and tourney was over but what were all these people doing there, if not for some spectacle?

Next she saw that on the raised platform were seated not only her royal husband but Lord Barold and Queen Emily as well.

''My love.''

He was dressed in a fine crimson tunic and she could not but admit he looked gallant as ever. She had in truth married a handsome, if not cruel man.

Then the facade was gone. A man in chains was brought up the platform, dragged by armed guards, seemingly unable to stand. His clothes were torn and bloody, his face dirtied and without question that man was Lord Patrick of the house Doyle.

''Father!''

Once again Maura was stopped from rising by one of Garrett's guards. This time though there was a clutter of swords unsheathing and Jane stood before the man that had Maura's shoulders pinned to her seat, blade bared.

Maura looked around and realised the rest of Garrett's guards, seven men in all, had drawn their weapons as well. She could guess Jane would take two or three down before the rest overwhelmed her. The man withdrew his hands and went for his sword, but Jane knocked it out of his thumb, taking his thumb and forefinger clean off.

He screamed, clutching his injured hand and his sword thumped down on the floor.

''Stand down!'' Garrett commanded the rest of the guard, unwilling to create further tension. They sheathed their swords somewhat reluctantly, since the Astapori's was still out.

''My men were out of line.'' Garrett bowed mockingly, but his smile towards Jane was a grimace. ''No man touches the Queen.'' He gave the guards an earnest scowl. Then he turned to address the court as Jane returned her sword to its scabbard.

''Lords and Ladies of this court, the man that stands before you not only has spread filthy lies and accussations against me and my family but also planned to usurp the throne for himself. I have renounced him a traitor of the crown and he has been sentenced to death.''

Maura gasped and unsteadily rose from her seat, but found Jane blocking her path with he back.

''Garrett!'' She plead none the less. ''Please!''

Garrett gestured and a big brutish man climbed up the platform to join them, dragging a heavy long sword behind him. Lord Patrick was forced to his knees and Maura lunged at him, finding in her strength she did not know she had.

Jane was there before her, blocking her with her body.

''No, Jane, I have to-''

''Listen to the bastard!'' Garrett commanded, and this time his voice was cold.

It took just a mere instance for the deed to be carried out and afterwards Maura was dragged out screaming, carried by both Jane and a member of the King's guard.

Lord Patrick's headless body lay crumpled in the courtyard, bare for all to see what had become of the big proud man.

As Maester Cavanaugh held a cup of sleeping remedy for Maura to drink, Jane watched from the window Garrett announce Lord Hoyt as acting Hand of the King.

Her instinct told her that this was an evil man and the more power he held the more danger the realm would be -especially Maura. And now he had risen to be the second most powerful man in the Kingdom.

With Maura's wordless cries finally dying down, courtesy of the Maester's strong potion, Jane realised that her only true ally was irreversibly gone. The next decision she took was based mainly on said fact.

Maura was in the most grave danger she had ever been: no member of her household had enough power in King's Landing to protect her.

It was almost comical notion that a soldier who had seen so many battles would be so afraid of something so mundane as a piece of parchment. She held the quill crudely in her hand and she could only hope her message would be understood.

Lord Patrick is dead. Maura in danger. Send Help.

She addressed it to Collin, now Lord of Winterfell.

She rolled it carefully and hid it in her clothes. She needed to find a raven but she would not leave Maura alone and unprotected. Instead she carefully washed the ink of her fingers -what would a foreign savage be doing with ink and parchment, if not something worthy of suspicion. She stood sentry for what seemed hours on end, opening and closing the door ever so often to check if Lady Doyle was awake. There was not much that could be done at that moment, patience was her ally.

She hoped that when Lord Collin received her letter, he would send an army to bring Maura back home, but had she time to wait for help she did not know.

The Doyle house guards could not be trusted, for the throne had a lot of coin to buy their loyalty.

Queen Emily would not want her son to be wed with a traitor's daughter, especially if Garrett's was already growing inside her. Soon, if not as she was even having that thought, someone would be richly paid to make sure Maura Doyle never gives birth to an heir.

It was let and the sun hung low in the horizon when Maura stirred. In a drug induced stupor she took a cup of water and returned mutely under the covers.

It was much later that Garrett arrived. She stood before him until he had to thrust his shoulder into her to push forward. He was followed by three guards, in the royal cloaks of the King's guard.

He smiled at her and as she has been trained all her life to do she did not let discomfort show on her face.

''Hello bastard.'' He said, opening the door to Maura's chambers. ''My guards shall stay outside, but you may join me to see my beloved wife.

She did not move to follow him inside and he grunted with displeasure. ''It was an order, bastard!''

She could not help but obey a direct order and she followed, stepping no closer than necessary to aura's sleeping form. Standing guard inside the door this time, it took her a while to realise how sluggish Maura was.

What roused her was a slap across the face, delivered quite rudely by her royal husband.

''Rise and shine my lovely wife!'' He chimed, climbing on the bed with her, trapping her hips under him as he straddled her.

As Maura slowly regained her senses her gaze searched across the room and unavoidably rested on Jane's quite unwilling eyes. Then she managed to focus back to her husband, who's face was only inches from her own.

''It is time for your bridal duties, my sweet wife.'' He crooned, hastily ripping at her gown to get rid of the boundaries between them.

When it happened the pain was such that it got through the numbness she had been feeling all day. Hazily she wondered why Jane was there, but then she heard that Garrett was talking to the Astapori, as if Maura was not there, under him.

''She's all mine, you see? And even if you ever have her she will still be mine, always mine!''

She would have wanted to look at Jane to see if she would react to the absurd way Garrett seemed to be trying to antagonize her. As if her discomfort brought him more pleasure than his own wife.

Maura emptied her mind, trying to travel far away from the smell of stale wine in her husband's breath, but somewhere along the way he picked up pace, and it was impossible to ignore the way his hands run unkindly up and down her sides, groping with blunt nails.

His hand encircled her throat hard enough to keep her down, had she wanted to rise, but it wasn't necessary, though he was not a heavy man, his weight pinned her down onto the bed. She had hoped that soon it would be over, but he seemed overly enthusiastic, much more so than previous times, and she wondered if he could actually continue this torture forever.

Why he was being like this, she wondered, why did he find need of this brutality, she was aware of her duties, she had never refused him, so why?

She was crying without wanting to, but that would have been alright, had she not been gasping and crying out wordlessly as well. When had she started to scream? She could not remember, not could she stop her body's reaction to the pain, and gradually her voice grew hoarse.

''It's okay, my love.'' He said, noticing the way she was trying to stop herself. ''Nobody can hear us and my guards have been ordered not to interrupt us.'' He kissed her sloppily. ''This is just for you, bastard.'' He turned to Jane with a crooked grin.

Why was he speaking almost gently when his entire body was a weapon pressed against hers, slashing and tearing at her?

He buried a hand in her hair and tugged possessively. She closed her eyes, trying to choke back the scram of pain as he raised himself on knees, to gain more leverage, and crushed her underneath him.

Suddenly everything stopped.

All movement, all sound ceased.

She waited for something even more painful -if possible- to commence and when nothing happened she decided to risk opening her eyes.

He was still there, on top of her, but he had risen somewhat, trapping her legs between his knees. Something had bloomed in his fine blue shirt and it took her a heartbeat or two to figure out that the tip of a sword was protruding from his belly.

Forgetting all about her earlier inhibition she screamed as the blade vanished, retreating back inside his body. His weight was abruptly pulled off her and he was thrown to the floor, outside her field of vision.

She lay in bed, unable to move from pain and shock, when she heard Jane's voice.

''The most important thing you have.'' She was saying. There was a muffled sound in reply, Garrett had something in his mouth preventing his from speaking. ''And I shall take it back to my Queen, in Astapor.''

A drowned scream of pain and then... could that be crying...?

Then Jane was next to her, whispering something that Maura could not hear as she slipped a gown over her bruised body. Then the Astapori soldier opened the door and addressed the men waiting outside.

''Your King demands your presence.''

Two of them sighed and walked inside, behind Jane, only to see their King bleeding out on the rich rug that covered the floor.

Jane was counting on the fact that Garrett was so sure they would not be heard, she wondered if he had deliberately arranged for Mara's chambers to be in such a secluded area of the castle.

Maura had never seen anyone draw a sword as fast as these two did. And she had not seen anyone die as fast either.

The third guard made for the door, forgetting his duty to his King in the face of his own death. In the end it did not do anything to lengthen his own life, he collapsed just before he reached the end of the corridor, Jane's spear sticking out of his back.

By now Garrett had stopped writhing on the floor and lay motionless on his side, his face ashen and covered with sweat. For an instance she stared at Jane, who looked back at her, covered with Garrett's and the guards' blood. Then, gently, she wiped the blood off her brow with the back of her hand and retrieved her spear. Maura sat up, shocked by the carnage. There were four bodies scattered in the room around them.

It was Jane who spoke.

''My Queen, we need hurry.''

And just like that she was in Jane's arms, as they flew down a staircase, then another. For a foreigner the Unsullied knew her way very well around the castle, Maura noted. Then they were descending down a trap door into a blind tunnel.

She could not see but Jane knew where the were going, or at least that's how it seemed. And suddenly she threw open a door and moonlight streamed over them. The unmistakable smell of horses filled her nose and she knew immediately that they were in the stables. Jane helped her down on a wooden bench then she turned, sword bared in hand. Someone else was in the stables with them.

To her surprise... Lord Barold came out of the shadows, holding the reigns of a saddled horse.

''How...'' Was all Jane asked.

''I have my ways.'' He turned to Maura with a good natured smile. ''The Lady has no shoes, you are truly a savage, Jane.''

Looking down at her own feet Maura saw that they were, as he had remarked, bare, in their rush to leave the castle.

''Is she with child?'' He asked Jane. She shook her head.

''There is no way to know.''

''My nephew?''

She patted a bloody pouch hanging from her belt. ''Here.''' He cringed in disgust.

''Well!'' He produced a cage with a black raven and she reached into her leather jerkin, revealing the letter to Collin.

''Thank you, my Lord.''

He took it from her hands and gently rubbed the horse's cheek. ''These are enough supplies, at least for a while. Queen Emily has already sent an assassin to capture Maura and make sure she does not produce a son that could one day have a claim to the throne. I suspect that the death of her son will only make her rage worse, you need to cover as much ground as possible, do not stop for rest until you are at least a couple days ride from here.'' He leaned in to whisper something in her ear and Jane nodded.

''I will not forget this.'' She said.

''I sure hope not.''

She helped Maura on the saddle and eased herself behind the young Lady.

''May we meet again, Lord Barold.

''I look forward to that, Jane Snow.'' He bowed. ''My Queen, I apologise for the circumstances. Have a safe journey.''

Without further talk Jane turned the horse around and got them galloping away. At the city gates all the guards had been shot down, tiny poisoned arrows protruding from their necks. They had put little distance between them and the city when all the bells of the Holy Sept echoed at once from behind them.

The King is dead, Maura thought.

* * *

 ** _How's that? Most of you have been waiting a while for this. Best guess for what's in Jane's pouch?_**  
 ** _Lemme know thoughts and comments_ **


	13. Heart of a Slave

_**Faithful reader of this story, I would like to apologize for my long absence and hope to make up for it with a nice sizeable chapter! Love y'all, hope you enjoy this! Don't forget to leave me a comment, and thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed!**_

 _ **LK**_

* * *

Chapter twelve

They rode through the forest until roughly mid day, until the sun glared down at them, and they would have gone on further if Maura hadn't almost slipped from Jane's grasp and off the horse. The Astapori swiftly dismounted by the side of the river and lifted Lady Doyle gently off the saddle. She lowered her down on the ground and helped her drink from the flagon of water she took from her belt.

''Forgive me my Lady, but we need hurry. We cannot stop here.''

Maura leaned back exhausted, against the soldier's chest. ''I...''

She looked pale and feverish and Jane could not help but feel her heart break at the sight but it did not change the fact that the Kingdom's fastest riders would be after them. As it was Queen Emily would not allow her son's killer to survive, or allow the woman who may be carrying an unborn heir to the throne get away. She eased Maura back on the saddle, facing her, so that she could wrap her arms around the Astapori and cling on her as they rode, as not risk falling off again.

No matter how hard she tried she could not ignore the pleasant warmth of the arms encircling her waist, rocking with the rhythmic movement of the horse, even if it was just a necessity. She used her free arm to secure Maura against her. She seemed to be asleep for the most part and maybe it was best this way.

Jane made sure to wake her every once in a while for a few drops of water. When the sun went down they stopped, so that Maura could rest only for a little. She even managed to get her to eat a few bites of bread and cheese before she slipped into sleep again. It may have been a good spot for Lady Doyle to rest from riding all day but Jane could not allow herself to risk closing her eyes. She had grown accustomed to riding for days on end and staying away and this was no

different from her training back in Slaver's bay in Astapor.

Unsullied were the elite of the elite when it came to soldiers. They were obedient, durable and were trained to need little food or water and welcome it when it came. The eunuch men and the women that made up the army might never have the strength of men like the Mountain she had faced in the tourney but their weapons training made them one of the most able and skilled forces in the seven kingdoms.

It was deep into the night and they were both back on the saddle when she heard the light murmur of words coming from Maura's lips. She leaned in to listen to her, careful not to ride into a tree, as there was barely any moonlight.

''Garrett, you... killed him...''

When silence was Jane's only answer the Lady stirred further to look at her. Jane was forced to look back.

''You killed... my husband.''

''My Lady...'' Jane rasped. ''I cannot in honesty apologise for doing so.''

When Maura started to cry Jane realised there was no use trying to console her. Some distance went by like this before Maura finally asked her. ''Where are you taking me?''

''To your brother back in House Doyle.''

''And now I'm here, alone, with you.'' Maura pressed. ''And I know you're not like the other women of the court, I saw you with Suzanne.''

''My lady...'' Jane rasped. ''I would never do you harm.''

''I want to believe that...'' Jane felt Lady Doyle's hands tighten around the hem of her clothes as they rode and she was not sure if it was just an unintentional way to hold herself up against sleep and the rocking of the horse. ''But you just killed my husband. You killed the King of the entire realm.''

''You know why I did it.'' Jane said softly. ''You know what he was. It might already be too late, you might already be carrying his heir. They will come after you, after that child.''

''He was my husband!''

''My Lady... I know you loved your husband but Lord Patrick was your father and I have taken my orders directly from him.'' It was only a partial lie. Lord Doyle had ordered her to protect his daughter at all costs, he had never ordered the King's execution directly.

''You are working for my father?'' Maura was now more surprised than angry in the way she asked. ''My father has dozens of good men in his house guard, why would he need your help?'' It was not said, but implied, you're a low born foreigner and a woman.

''I cannot speak as to what Lord Patrick's intentions were.''

''Do you in all honesty expect me to thank you for your service, Jane?'' It was said with such hatred that the Astapori could only bow her head and keep on riding.

''I would expect nothing from you, my lady, I am after all just a slave and you are the Queen of Seven Kingdoms.''

Jane saw dawn earlier than she would have expected. It was an inconvenience, since the cover of darkness was a precious one against the tireless rider Queen Emily had most certainly sent after them. It was also the reason they would not take the direct path to Winterfell and not approach it from the south as they would usually do. Instead they would detour a little further east then circle back. Even though she was confident she could outrun the Queen's riders she felt safer if she did not risk it. What was more important, nobody knew of her plan, not even Patrick Doyle himself before his execution.

Maura was clinging uninhibitedly on her in her sleep. It was best this way, that she rested when she could. Gradually the climate was growing colder, they had already covered a lot of distance and they would soon need to rest and water the horse. They were avoiding the main road, which meant the riders after them might well be ahead of them than behind.

She felt the Lady stir slowly against her. Soon came her voice.

''Jane...'' She sounded hazy and disoriented.

''Yes my lady...''

''Cailyn... we left without Cailyn, what...''

''Worry not, my lady. Your father has seen that the most trusted of his guard escorted back to Winterfell. She will most likely be there before us.''

''Why did I forget... how could I forget about her?!''

''You were hurt and exhausted. I am sure she would understand.'' She gently eased the horse into a stop at the side of the river and climbed down. She held her arms out for Maura who pushed them away, intent on dismounting herself. She lost her balance and Jane caught her around the waist.

''Don't touch me.'' She snapped and obediently the Astapori settled her on the ground, on top of the torn tunic she had laid out. She produced a heel of bread and offered her a flagon of water. Half heartedly Maura accepted them.

Keeping her distance from Lady Doyle, yet without letting her out of sight she eased her spear out and went knee deep in the river, focused on catching their dinner. Soon it was roasting over a small fire and Jane was sat at the edge of the river, cutting her hair to just shoulder length.

''If we anyone sees us I might be able to pass as your brother and when you change clothes you will look no different than a peasant girl. We shall meet no trouble on the road this way.''

Maura realised she was right, Jane was very likely to pass unnoticed as a man, especially under the leathers and with the sword at her belt. She watched her reach into a saddle pouch and produce a simple brown gown that she laid next to her.

''I am sorry, my Lady, but you need to wear this, this royal dress of yours is bound to cause us trouble.''

''You cannot be serious, this smells like a stable!'' She protested but she knew it was futile. ''Fine.'' She said through her clenched teeth. ''Don't look at me, turn around!''

Jane obliged with a bow and when she received permission to look back lady Doyle was swallowed up in the graceless peasant dress. She threw the disposed clothes in the fire and retrieved the left overs of their dinner for a later time. They would soon have to stray from the river and fish would not be readily available anymore. Any scrap they could gather was precious. Lord Barold had provided them with some supplies, true, but they were running out quickly. They were lucky that the further up north they got the easier it would get to find snow or ice to melt down for water. She had been lucky enough that Lord Barold had also provided them with a map that Jane could partially read and would help them avoid large cities and Fairfield allies.

A long time later and after the sun had sunk down in the horizon a cold breeze had set. Jane decided it was a good time to rest the horse again and she offered the last of their fish to Lady Maura who accepted it without protest. Jane took out the map and held it close to the fire. ''My Lady, I know you would like to sleep, but would you be kind enough to help me read this map? I am afraid I cannot read this word.''

Maura sighed. ''Of course you can't...'' She mumbled under her breath. She realised with regret when she looked up at her that she had wounded her pride gravely but she could not find it in her to take the words back. She brushed a thumb over the name of the village they were just south of. ''This is Clearwater village.'' She read out and Jane nodded.

''Thank you my Lady.'' She returned the map to its place and dulled the fire to a bare flicker so they wouldn't be seen from a distance. ''You should try get some sleep off the saddle, we will get going soon.''

In the end tiredness was more important than her need to argue with Jane and she felt asleep, despite the fact that her new dress was coarse and itchy and smelled like scared horses. When she awakened she was on the saddle again, curled against Jane's chest. She disliked this change of location but it was light outside and she felt more rested than she had in a while, so she must have been asleep for quite some time.

''I was starting to worry, but you looked peaceful and I did not wish to wake you my Lady.'' Jane's voice came somewhere above and she looked up to meet her tired eyes.

Maura adjusted herself better against the rocking of the saddle, facing the seemingly endless expanse of forest before them. ''Thank you.'' she compromised. She realised they were riding around Clearwater village, going further south before they headed north again.

''Where are we going?'' She asked.

''We will circle back tomorrow and head northwest past Winterfell, then approach the castle from the north. I do not expect we will meet any trouble this way, but it will be a long and difficult journey.''

''We are not going to survive the cold with these clothes.'' Maura remarked and she felt Jane nod behind her.

''Unfortunately we will have to enter one of the villages in our way and purchase heavier garb, Lord Barold has also supplied us with enough coin.'' She allowed. She brought the horse to a halt at the side of the river and dismounted. ''This will be the last we will see of the river, there will be no other chance for you to wash until we reach Winterfell, my Lady.''

This time Maura accepted her help to dismount and found that her legs were numb and weak from the saddle.

''You cannot truly expect me to bathe in the river.'' She protested, but there was no argument from the Astapori's side.

''You may do as you please, my Lady.'' She remarked, already unbuttoning her jerkin. Maura watched with restrained fascination the strong muscles of her back as she went into the river with a splash, treading into the water with long strokes. She returned almost instantly, not willing to leave her unguarded, slipping back into her clothes.

Reluctantly, and using the horse as a shield between them Maura begun to undress as the Astapori lit a small fire to dry herself off. First thing she saw was the bruises that begun to appear as she shed her clothes. At the edge of the water she gently washed herself, feeling the water very near freezing on her skin. Dressed once more she returned next to the fire and Jane draped a heavy cloak around her.

She decided that riding behind Jane would now be more comfortable and they were back on their way soon as they had refilled their water supply. Maura had never thought herself able to sleep on the saddle but she found it easier every night that went by. In fact she had discovered that she could also eat and drink on the saddle as well. She woke up without ever realising she had slept and she found herself staring at the small wooden houses of beggars and peasants.

People were looking at them riding through their streets, curious children tugging at their mother's hand to see. They must have very few strangers passing through, Maura thought. Jane dismounted in front of the only brick house in the entire village, the Merchant's. A large man with thick arms came out to greet her with a smile.

''We do not come upon many travelers.'' He said, confirming Maura's earlier thoughts. ''To what may I be of use, stranger?''

It was only natural for him to address the person he thought to be the man.

''We are to travel north, we are seeking a warm cloak and boots if you have, merchant.'' Jane deadpanned. Of course the woman had no class, Maura sighed inwardly. She couldn't help but dismount and join her to make sure she didn't gave them away with her rudeness.

''Ah, but of course, if you have the coin I have the goods.'' The man did not seem bothered by Jane's bluntness. ''I have just the cloak for you, stranger, but what about your lovely wife? I believe I have a dress that would fit her perfectly.''

Maura almost spoke up. He had assumed, but it did not really matter, did it? Jane did not seem surprised but she must have been. ''A warm dress would be excellent, sir.'' She replied, stopping Jane from uttering another graceless reply.

''Come inside, come inside, I have just the thing for the both of you.'' He chirped, opening the door to his shop. ''May you grace me with your name, sweet girl?''

Maura smiled. She knew how to handle people, that was no different from a knight of the court, as long as she remained pleasant things wouldn't go wrong.

''My name is Suzanna, sir.'' She made a little curtsy. ''And this is my... husband, Janos.''

Jane heard her falter in the last sentence and moved closer to her, shadowing her with her body. ''You said you have something for us, merchant.'' She pressed and they followed him inside.

''I am Gregory Oakheart, sir.'' He made a fake bow for Jane who gazed at him impassively. He led them into a room full of different articles of clothing and produced a heavy cloak lined with fur on the inside, from an old chest. ''That's a warm and sturdy thing right there.'' He announced and unwilling to spend more time there than she had to Jane nodded, tucking it under her arm and producing the agreed upon coin. Next was a pair of boots, lined with fur as well which Maura loved instantly, since they reminded her of home. And finally was the long dress coat in the ashen colour of wolfskin. Jane helped her slide it over her shoulders and it engulfed her small frame almost immediately.

Coin clinked as it landed in the merchant's cupped hands and they were turning to go, carrying their newest belongings when the man stopped them at the door.

''Are you not staying in our village? There is a storm comings and a lady such as your wife should not travel in a weather like this, especially in the dark.''

''We are in a hurry to return home.'' Jane mumbled unhappily.

''How can you know a storm is on it's way?'' Maura asked.

''Did you not see all these dark clouds as the winds blew them from the south? We have had good weather for too long and the Gods seemed fit to remind us what rain feels like. The crops need it as well.'' He had remained pleasant but there was a hidden insistence in his words.

''Thank you, but we need be on our way.'' Jane cut in.

''You need not worry about the rooms, travelers are always welcome in our village Janos, in fact I have a guest bedroom right here for you and your wife.'' He gestured towards the inner rooms.

''It would certainly be rude to turn down such a kind offer.'' Maura said, eying Jane with plea. It had been a cold and rough couple of nights.

She knew that there was no way Jane could refuse her in front of the merchant without causing a scene, and that would not be wise if didn't want to make an impression on the man. The idea of a warm meal and a bed that night was very appealing to her. They soon found themselves sharing a thick stew with the eager man. It displeased her that Jane had not shed her arms, it was always a bad omen to bear a sword in the house of a man who had offered them nothing but hospitality. She could not speak against her husband either though and so she remained silent.

Jane had also insisted that their horse be kept outside rather than in the merchant stables. It was clear that she did not trust the man in the least, which Maura could not explain, since there had been nothing hostile in his behaviour. She had lost count of the days since they had practically escaped from King's Landing -this must be the fourth- and this had been the first good meal she had. It tasted nothing like what the cooks in the palace prepared for her but somehow it was heavenly in its simplicity.

There was not much room for discussion, especially when Jane kept answering in single words but Maura enjoyed the merchant's company, noticing that the looks he gave her were the same the knights of the court did, full of appreciation for her beauty.

Until the man led them to the guest bedroom she had not realised that there was only one bed for them, since they were husband and wife. They had turned in early for the night, claiming to be tired from their travel -which they were. They planned to leave at first light, hopefully before the merchant himself awoke, which Maura did find rude, but she guess it was a necessary evil.

''Worry not my Lady.'' Jane's voice behind her startled her. ''I will stand sentry at your door, I know my company displeases you.''

Maura sat on the edge of the bed, her body worn from the road and her broken legs throbbing from the exertion of the stairs they had to take for the upstairs bedroom. She thought of inviting her to stay in the room, after all she had not slept for the entirety of their journey but she was still angry and something stopped her. She was after all somewhat afraid of the Astapori, even though she did not wish to admit it even to herself.

Jane stood undecided at the door. Maura wondered if she had expected an invitation as well, despite her words. She thought back to that almost kiss and wondered what it meant.

''You left Suzanne in King's Landing.'' She said. It had just occurred to her, thoughts of her chambermaids were not frequent on her mind but this one was different, maybe because she was Jane's. She could not entirely understand what Suzanne was to Jane but she had not considered that the loss might have meant something to the Astapori.

''I did.'' Jane confirmed gently.

''Did you love her?'' Maura asked bravely. She would never have dared ask this of any other but some deep instinct in her wished that the bare mention would hurt her.

''No more and no less than the others.'' She gave no indication that it caused her any distress.

''There were others?'' Maura asked genuinely surprised, but she probably shouldn't have been.

''I have traveled for a long time, my Lady.''

Maura wondered why she kept answering all her questions without a hint of shame. ''And Suzanne? Did she love you? And if she did how could you have left her like this?'' She was desperately trying to grasp for a valid accusation she could point at the Astapori and was failing.

Jane shrugged. ''I never led her to believe we had anything more than a couple of nights.'' She frowned. ''Should a lady like you ask such questions?''

Another thing Maura had noticed was that Jane had stopped calling her by her name, for reason unknown. She also could not fathom why it should have bothered her but it did.

Maura stood up and went to the water basin. ''I should wash.'' She deflected. ''This water could not be any worse than the river.''

Jane nodded and just as she went to close the door Maura stopped her. She did not know what urged her to but she laid a hand on the door. ''Leave it open just a bit please.''

She had not wished to appear weak but she also had not wished to feel entirely alone. With the door ajar she could see a small part of the Astapori's shoulder as she stood facing the corridor and even though it shouldn't it made her feel better.

She took great care in washing herself, knowing she might not get another chance to wash or use a chamberpot until they reached her brother in Winterfell. She patted herself dry then blew out all the candles but one and laid on the bed, enjoying the feel of pillows under her. It was by no means equal to the one in King's Landing but definitely better than the bunched up cloak she had used in the forest.

Some time went by but sleep could not come to her. She rose to her feet again and walked to the door where the flickering light of the candle Jane had still danced around creating playful shadows. She peered through the opening to find the Astapori sat on the floor, the map open in her lap as she stared at it intensely. By the murderous frown she had it was clear to Maura that she could not read the words, but despite that she had chosen not to ask her for help, like she had done back on the road.

With discomfort Maura realised she had succeeded in humiliating her travelling companion and returned quietly to her bed. She fell asleep without noticing but woke to the sound of a body hitting the wooden floor.

* * *

 _ **Poor Jane... Maura is being a biatch...**_


	14. The Decision

**_Id like to apologise for how short this chapter is, but worry not the next one will be coming either tonight or upon the morrow :D_**

 ** _my laptop is malfunctioning and I lost the second half, but I had backed it up somewhere and I will find it or rewrite it._**

 ** _hope you enjoy this until the next one hehe_**

* * *

Maura used all her remaining strength to swing her legs off the bed but found she could not rise. The door swung open and two men in armour burst it, swords they sheathed once they saw her.

''You shall be put to death, Queen Emily commands it. .'' The large man announced and took a step towards her bed, then howled, falling forward. A small dagger protruded from the back of his boot. With his body out of the way Maura could see Jane on her knees, trying to get up.

The man's companion rushed her, she was unarmed but once he was in reach the small knife she hid into her grasp went deep into his belly. He swung at her with bare fists but she crawled away, picking herself up and delivering an elbow to his face as she simultaneously drew his sword. The first man got to his feet, limping, and drew his sword.

''Bloody bastard!'' He howled at her but Jane finished his comrade with a clean slice across the throat. He collapsed on her and she pushed him back, squaring her shoulders to face the man she had only injured.

Maura saw the merchant before she realised what was happening he had suddenly appeared in the room, by some secret door no doubt, and he wrapped his arms around her, lifting her clean off the bed into his beefy arms. ''You're coming with me.'' He said, pulling her into a trapdoor as she heard the clash of swords. A body hit the floor and someone screamed -it did not sound like Jane.

He dragged her through a corridor, only half carrying her, her legs dangling to the ground as they made their way in pitch black. He opened a door and found himself face to face with Jane.

The Astapori's spear was near his face and his hands were full in his effort to take the little Lady and so he found himself unarmed.

''Let her go.'' Jane growled, her accent thicker than ever. ''And I will kill you quick.''

He let Maura slide off him and the Lady caught herself, stumbling to her feet.

''The soldiers!'' He stuttered. ''The soldiers-''

''They're dead.'' Jane answered his unsaid question.

''There are more, they are coming for you! You will be killed-'' Jane silenced him, the spear going clean through his heart. She planted a foot on his chest and pulled it out with a sickening then turned to Maura. A trickle of blood was running down her face.

''You cannot walk.'' She said, startled. She had somehow noticed it through the commotion. Maura shook her head, she could feel herself shaking against the sudden cold. They were in the main entrance of the merchant's house as he lay dead at their feet. ''We shall go.'' Jane reached for her, picking her up like a child in arms as they rushed to the stables where their horse was sheltered for the night. The Astapori saddled up briskly and helped her climb up on the horse, then climbed behind her, arms reaching around Maura's smaller body to lead the horse into a dash to the main road.

Behind them torches lit up in the merchant's house as his servants awakened to find their master dead. It was the least of their problems, half a dozen guards spilled out of the house, torches in hand, running to their horses to give chase. Maura looked at them over Jane's shoulder, they wore no sigil but it was safe to guess they too were sent by queen Emily. Jane had been right, they should never have stopped for the night, but now it was two late and she could see two of the men were fast enough to follow them on horse.

Jane rode like a foreigner used to horses that were fast instead of durable and strong war horses, but maybe they would be lucky and escape before their horse tired out. Suddenly she felt Jane's body press against her, flattening her against the horse and the Astapori shuddered wordlessly. Maura looked to find an arrow protruding from the right side of her chest, blood pouring between them. She faltered but maintained her grip on the horse and when Maura looked back she could not see their pursuers anymore.

The Astapori knew it would be dawn soon and they would not have the cover of darkness. Their only choice was to put as much distance between them and the Queen's men before they could be seen from a distance. She rode north, where she could hope for help from the current Lord of Winterfell. Maura was shaking against her body, wearing little other than her rough span night gown, but they had no time to stop and look for the garb they had purchased that now hang from their saddle.

They rode their way to noon, avoiding the main road and opting to weave through the forest instead, the sun above them providing some warmth against the cold. As they headed north they could see the remnants of old snow that grew thicker the further they travelled. At some point a flash of water was put in Maura's hands and she drunk gratefully and later into the afternoon she was able to slip into the warm furs the merchant had sold them.

As she did, behind her, Jane snapped the arrow in two with her left hand and, leaning against the horse, pulled it out with a grunt. Fresh blood poured down her leather jerkin, running down to stain her pants. She took both pieces of the saft with them, not wanting to leave traces of their passing to future scouts.

Maura noticed that the next time she climbed on the horse she did not use her right arm at all, letting it dangle against her side. It was becoming harder and harder for Lady Doyle to use her legs for anything other than standing and that only briefly. Without Maester Cavanaugh's treatments she had slipped back to how she was shortly after her injury.

She could guess that they were about three days ride from Winterfell, the map open before her, she traced their journey with her finger. The merchant had sold them out, they had probably offered him money or lands and he had gladly accepted to help the Queen's men. Or maybe it had been all his own idea and that had been the reason he had treated them so well and offered them food and shelter for the night. In either case he had paid for it with his life and Maura found that the more she saw men die the more used to the sight she became.

Was this then what their world was like outside the sheltered home of her childhood, full of death and violence and betrayal. She fell asleep without realising, settled against Jane on the saddle.

She awoke with a start, as the horse came into a whining halt. She realised she was along, and she turned, the horse exhaling with annoyance, to see that Jane had collapsed on the ground, six feet behind them.

For the first time Maura was overcome with the temptation to harm another human being.

If she rode away now she could probably make it to Winterfell where her brother would await for her with his army, ready to crush the Queen's men that dared to follow. She had food and water for such a short trip, she did not need the Astapori's help. She told herself, she could not help her anyway, there was no way she could dismount and carry her up the saddle again. She took the lead, and tugged hesitantly. She knew how to ride but the horse seemed nervous that it's previous rider was gone. She stroked it's mane gently and it whine but obeyed and they trotted forward.


	15. The Return

**_Part two as promised, thanks for all the nice reviews. Btw, to the person who PMd me about my typos and such, bear in mind this is not my first language hehe so all sorts of mistakes are bound to happen, sorry!_**

 ** _Love y'all, enjoy and lemme know what you think._**

She turned the horse around. In the end she wasn't this person she thought she was. The person Garrett had almost made her become. She dismounted with great effort and her legs almost did not hold her as she touched the ground. She sat next to Jane's inert form, her coat drugging into the dirt and mud and checked for her pulse.

The Astapori was alive and Maura opened her shirt and leather jerkin to look at the wound. She was burning with fever, skin clammy and scalding under Lady Doyle's touch, Jane shuddered at the sudden touch, she opened her eyes but it was plain that in her haze she could not see Lady Doyle bent over her in the afternoon light.

''Can you rise?'' Maura asked. If she could get her back on the horse then maybe they would be able to reach Winterfell. With what strength though she would get herself, let alone the Astapori on the saddle she did not know. The wound site was a mangled crater on Jane's chest, inflamed red edges that still oozed blood. She could not know if the bolt had been poisoned or infection had set in, it could be either or both. If it was poison then Jane would soon be dead and she would know.

She huddled herself in her furs, reaching for the saddle pouch and taking a drink of water. She found strong red wine in a flask next to the water and she took it, taking the occasional drink to keep herself warm. She did not light a fire, she was not sure she knew how to anyway. The cold was almost lulling and she was afraid to fall asleep. The men after them would still be looking and she did not want to be asleep when they came, not that she had any way to defend herself from the ground where she lay but she preferred it.

Jane spoke often as she slept restlessly. It was in an exotic tongue, thick and foreign that her voice made sound almost magical. Maura hated to admit that she almost enjoyed listening to her. It took her back to the time she had spent teaching Jane how to read and write, before everything had gone so wrong. Before Garret, before her father had died, before she had seen Jane with Suzanne. She could not tell what what she had seen had meant to her, she never had to deal with something similar before, nor had she read something that could help her in her precious books.

She let some water drip past the Astapori's lips under the moonlight. A cloud cast them in darkness for a while and Maura could not see past the horse before them. She had not realised she was asleep until Jane's pained grunt woke her. The Astapori was trying to sit up, her eyes red and glazed, face drawn.

''No, don't, you're hurt.'' Maura did not intend to but she reached for her, helping her lie against a tree behind her.

''We need to go.'' Jane gruffed, getting her legs under her. She staggered towards the horse, lost her footing and fell on her side, laying in the mud. Maura pulled herself towards her and saw fresh blood blooming at the front of her shirt. The Astapori struggled, rising to her knees and getting hold of the saddle to keep herself up. The brutish stubbornness it must have taken her to pull her body onto the horse, Maura could never understand. She lay atop the horse and the Lady realised she had most likely passed out again.

It took her some time to convince her legs to follow the soldier up on the saddle and when she finally settled behind her motionless body she got hold of the leads. She had to go slow, sure that a gallop would throw Jane off the saddle again. It would take them longer this way but there was no other way and so she begun the hardest journey she had ever been in her entire life.

As they rode Maura's hand lowered to her stomach where she wondered if the next heir to the throne would be. She could not for the life of her say how she felt about Garrett's offspring growing inside her. Nothing was certain but she was on her days and had not chance upon her moon's blood yet. She was afraid, but she guessed that she would have been afraid despite the manner of the conception, she could not imagine herself as a mother.

When dawn broke she brought them to a halt and leaned over to examine Jane without dismounting. She was breathing, her eyes open and staring into the distance unblinking. The fever persisted all through the day, her condition unchanging whilst in the meanwhile Maura got to the last of their bread supply. The night that followed was worse, she found herself fighting the need to sleep and risk falling of the horse and hurt herself.

It happened on the end of that night, just as the first light bled in the sky. Jane stirred, then slowly sat up on the saddle, using only her left hand, her right side seemed to still be in pain. The fever had not broken but she seemed more coherent and actually asked Maura to pass her the last flask of water they had. Other than that they did not speak to each other until Maura decided to rest the horse at mid day. She dismounted and Jane followed her stumbling off the saddle.

It had been getting colder the further up they rode, Maura could feel it in her bones that they were very close to home, in fact she hoped to see the gates of Winterfell by the end of that day. She watched Jane turn her back to her and strip, taking handfuls of snow and grinding them against the wound on her chest, her forearm trembling with each scoop.

Lady Doyle slowly poured snow into their water flask, willing to have water later but stopped when she saw Jane sink to her knees as she slipped back into her shirt. She thought of moving in to help her up but her own legs were not in a much better shape than they had been the day before and the cold and long ride had made them stiff and hard to move. Jane rose and returned shakily to the saddle, taking the leads this time.

They rode through the quiet forest, snow had settled over everything and there were very few birds to scatter as they passed.

''The queens men.'' Maura said suddenly. ''Would they have killed me?''

Jane's voice was deeper than it had been. ''I believe so.''

''Why?'' Her hand came down to her belly protectively. ''They know I did not kill the King, that was you.''

''Queen Emily wants the throne for herself, she will kill you and your child if she find you.'' Jane forced through her teeth. She hated even the thought of Maura's child with a creature like Garrett.

''She cannot know for certain if I am...'' She trailed off.

''She will not take the chance.''

''Will you die, Jane?'' Maura asked carefully.

''I do not believe so.'' The Astapori answered. ''Not until I take you to your brother in Winterfell.''

''Why are you helping me?''

''Your father-''

Maura cut in harshly. ''Why are you obeying my father's orders? He is dead, nobody can make you obey him anymore.''

''I wish you safe, my lady.'' Jane was careful with her answer. She did not wish to give Maura cause to worry about her intention.

''I saw you with Suzanne.'' She snapped. ''Is this why you killed my husband?''

The answer was thick but immediate. ''No.''

''Then why?''

''He hurt you, my lady. I could not see him hurt you like this, why would you ask such a cruel thing of me?''

Maura silenced. She reached for Jane's forearm as the Astapori guided them among the trees. ''Answer me with truth, Soldier.'' She demanded. ''Answer me truly that you do not love me.''

She waited for an answer that did not come. Jane's arm strained under her touch. ''I cannot utter such a lie to you, my lady.'' She said finally. ''Answer me in truth, do you still love him?'' She did not need to say whom she was referring to.

''Yes.'' Maura said instantly. ''I do.''

Jane nodded and the rest of their journey was quiet, until just as the sun was vanishing in the horizon Maura saw it. The sweet shade of her childhood home, the ominous mass of the castle walls that had belonged to her family for generations, the place where she had met her husband. Her heart jumped in her chest and she leaned forward, urging Jane to make the horse go faster and faster so she could meet her brother who surely awaited them at the gates, ready to take her into his arms.

Yet instead of rushing Jane brought the horse into a halt, and it took Maura a few instances to realise what had made her stop. The banner that hang over the castle walls was not the Doyle Wolf but the coiled snake of house Hoyt.


	16. Weeping Witch

Chapter fourteen

''Jane!'' Maura tugged at the Astapori's arm as they rode away. ''You can't just-''

''They're gone, my lady.''

Behind them Winterfell grew smaller and smaller until it was but a raven in the horizon.

''My brother's army-''

''There is no army, look around you my lady.''

It was true, Maura realised. It had been hidden before but now she saw, the northern side of the castle was in ruins, smoke still came in heavy dark puffs from the northern towel. The Doyle banner lay in tatters across it's windows. The tears welled in her eyes before she could contain them and unwillingly her fingers twisted into the hem of Jane's shirt.

The Astapori, she realised, was not turning back south but heading further up north.

''We have allies...'' She offered. ''House Doyle has allies in the north, they will take us in.'' It was way too late when she noticed she implied Jane would join her. Her duty had been to take her to Winterfell and she had, she had given no oath to follow her around, had she? She was afraid to ask for she did not wish to know the answer.

Yesterday, in the prospect of being safely under the custody of her brother Maura had been ready to head to Winterfell on her own and leave Jane in the forest but now? Now she realised how much she needed someone who had been trained in battle.

''There are no allies in this war, my Lady.'' Jane rasped.

''Then where shall we go?!'' Maura pressed. ''We certainly cannot return to King's Landing.''

''I'm taking you to the Weeping Forest.''

Maura startled at the name of the place dropping off the foreigner's lips. ''You surely cannot mean to take us to this wicked place.'' She almost laughed in anger. ''This place is full of creatures of the old Gods.''

And just like a child Jane went mute when she disagreed. Maura sighed, seeing no way of making her change her mind. Just as well, nobody would look for them in that damned place and they could rest and find an ally that would take them in.

They camped half a night north of Winterfell, when Maura's legs could take the saddle no more. She stumbled to the ground and for once Jane did not step in to help her, rather turned her back and knelt to build their tiny flame. They could not risk a big fire which would keep them warm but attract unnecessary attention.

''How do you know of the Weeping Forest.'' Maura asked, her body carefully turned as she tried to rub the life back into her dead cold legs. Even bending them to sit seemed difficult now, it had been a long while after the last of Maester Cavanaugh's treatment.

''I was there before I arrived in Winterfell.'' Jane answered, even thought Maura had thought she would just keep her silence as she had for these first days.

''You were captured.'' Maura offered and Jane looked at her and laughed sarcastically.

''I was, my Lady, as you very well have guessed by the chains I wore.'' She said with polite anger.

Maura considered apologizing but she had gone so long with Jane without doing so that it would be strange now. She was glad, however, to see that some of the colour had returned to the Astapori's face and she gratefully accepted the heel of bread and leathery strip of meat the soldier offered her. She did not gaze down at Maura's exposed bent legs and Lady Doyle appreciated the brief gesture of chivalry that she had not come to expect from a person of such low birth.

Under other occasion Jane would have made an effort to find some small forest animal or scale a tree in hopes of a nest full of eggs but now she contained herself to curling under her furred cloak, sat up against a sturdy rock.

Maura watched her stir in feverish sleep, sweat lining her brow even through her breath came in white puffs. She had wished to do likewise but the pain would not go away and she had been on the verge of tears for hours, tears that had little to do with losing Winterfell and all to do with the fact that she was not unable to stand on her own.

She finally allowed them to roll down her face, careful not to make a sound that would alert the sleeping woman she desperately did not want to see her crying. She could not exactly pin point the reason she was angry with Jane, she had been angry for so long that he had forgotten the first reason and now it had become a soothing habit that allowed her to bear with all the terrible things that had happened. She did not blame her for Garrett's death, no, that had been all her father's doing, her dead fathers, she corrected herself.

She must have fallen asleep, though,because next thing she knew Jane was standing over her, an unreadable expression upon her face as she looked down at her. Then Maura looked down to herself and saw that...

The front of the dress she wore under her furs had been deeply stained by...

''I suppose that you are not with child, my Lady.'' Jane offered gently, laying a clean dress before the Lady, another coarse peasant's rough spun.

Maura laid a hand over her chest, trying to stop her thumping heart. To her grave surprise she found that she felt relieved instead of sad. She looked down at how an unladylike mess she had made and then back up to the Astapori who had turned back to the fire.

''Worry not, I will not embarrass you.'' Jane offered and slowly Maura changed into the clean dress. They burned the other one in their fire before they departed.

Lady Doyle watched carefully the way Jane still favoured her injured side, she was in pain, Maura knew, more than she let show. They rode in silence until late in the afternoon when the forest came into view.

It had a certain cold beauty about it, even though it was eerily silent. No bird's chirping or rabbit's dashing through the brush, as if the creatures feared to disrupt the Gods. At the mouth of the woods stood a large weirwood, carved into the face of the old Gods, eyes seeping red.

May the Gods of my Father protect me, she prayed as Jane slowed their mount, as if she too did not wish to break the quiet. How does a south oreigner learn such respect for the Gods of the North, Maura wondered. No man, to her memory, had ever entered the Weeping Forest. Many passed it on the way to the Wall, the great barrier of the realm and the stories said they could hear the wind crying as they did.

The legend had it that men who wandered in were bound to lose their way home and they lose themselves to the forest. Neither Maura nor her father or her father before him had heard of a man who entered the forest and returned to speak of its wonders. Generally the men of the men of the North tended to take such tales seriously, here where the magic of the old world still lingered in the frosted trees. They would certainly not think that Lady Doyle would head into such enchanted place.

Jane however seemed to have been there before, by the way she steered their horse across unetched paths deeper and deeper into the forest. She looked out of place against the snow, with her olive skin and Southern eyes and yet she had managed to become one with the forest that was mute like her. Until finally Maura saw the simple stone built house, surrounded by trees that seemed to be in a southern spring instead of a frozen winter. She reached, as they rode past a tree, to grasp the same golden fruit Jane had offered her what seemed years ago.

''The forest will not harm us.'' Jane said, barely above a whisper.

There was smoke coming from the chimney and Maura could smell freshly baked bread. The orange she held was warm to the touch as if it had been in the sun before she plucked it from it's branch but in her hand it slowly lost it's warmth and she hid it in her fur coat, hoping she would still find it there later that day, unless it had been just a trick of the eye.

Jane dismounted and gave the reigns to Maura, then walked to the door and knocked, once, twice, thrice.

The door opened soundlessly and an old woman appeared at the opening, her back bent with age and labor. She looked up at Jane then turned to Maura but she did not give any indication of knowing either of them. She walked back inside the house, leaving the door open and Jane nodded at Maura, giving her her good arm to help her dismount.

Lady Doyle noticed that Jane did not bother securing their mount, as if somehow certain it would not be stolen or wander off. She entered the house leaning heavily on Jane, trying to contain gasps of pain in every step. It was almost entirely bare but she could still smell the soothing aroma of bread and now she caught the heaviness of a broth boiling over the fire. The woman was nowhere to be seen but Jane led her the few remaining steps to a small and hard bed against the far wall.

''You can rest here, my Lady. I will be with you shortly.''

And so Maura did, lying her battered body against the coarse bedcovers that felt almost heavenly compared to the days she had spent on the saddle. She heard Jane's boots thud against wooden steps and then she lost her sense of time as she lay for what could be hours or days.

When the Astapori returned she held a cup in her hand. She offered it to Maura.

''Drink this.'' She said without further explanation and Maura did, after holding it briefly under her nose. It smelled of wildflowers.

''I'm sorry my Lady.'' Jane said sadly and suddenly Maura's vision turned blurry.

* * *

 ** _Sorry for short chapter, more to come soon though! Lemme know what u think of this_**  
 ** _LK_**


	17. What the Forest gives

Chapter fifteen

She awoke with the taste of the wildflowers still in her mouth. The warmth of out of place sunlight warmed her cheek and blinded her as she opened her eyes. She was still inside the Weeping Forest, she could somehow feel that, in the lone house in the clearing. Then she was suddenly aware that she was being watched.

Jane sat on a wooden chair under the window, hands in her lap, looking right at her.

Without much thought Maura jumped up, towering over her.

''What have you done to me?!'' She demanded. She did not feel pain but that did not mean she had not been harmed. Then she realised that the fact by itself was peculiar. She was standing and yet felt no pain from her broken legs. She looked down at herself then back at Jane who stood up silently.

''How?'' Maura asked, stunned. ''How can this be?''

''The Forest works in mysterious ways, my Lady.'' She did not seem intimidated by the Lady's' fury.

''It was the woman, what sort of sorcery has she laid upon me?'' She lifted her dress to look down at legs that had never been damaged.

''Nothing of harm to you.''

''You cannot seriously believe that is an explanation?''

''I am afraid I have no explanations to give you.''

Maura turned as the old woman entered, carrying a tray. ''Then she will.''

''She does not possess the privilege of speech.'' Jane took the tray from her hands with a small bow and the woman frowned then departed. ''It is the price she pays.''

''The price?''

''The Weeping Forest does not give unless it takes something in exchange.''

Still unable to believe it Maura reached and touched her legs, they felt warm. ''And what did it give her?''

''I cannot know, my Lady.'' Jane replied, setting the tray on the worn table on the far side of the wall. Maura followed her, startled by the ease she took those long strides when a night ago she could not stand on her own.

''How long have I been asleep?'' She looked outside the window and it seemed like inside the little circle of the clearing it was still summer in the heart of a frozen forest.

''Four days and four nights.'' The Astapori answered. ''And you must stay longer if you wish to keep the gift you have been given.''

''So this is why you brought me here.'' Maura said, narrowing her eyes. ''You've been here before, haven't you.''

''Yes my Lady, I have.'' Jane allowed.

''And what do you expect of me?'' She pushed her back and the Astapori allowed herself to lose her balance, falling backwards onto the bed. ''Is this what you want?'' She climbed over Jane, pinning her on the bed with her body.

''My Lady...'' She kept her arms at her sides but Maura could feel her tense as she straddled her.

''This is it, right?'' She tried to gauge a reply but Jane had shut her eyes. ''You bring me here, like some sort of savior, expecting what? This?'' She searched in the discomfort of the other woman's features something of the desire she had seen when it had been Suzanne on her lap but found nothing. She looked for a clue that would resemble Garrett's need as he lay over her and still came up empty. A muscle twitched on her jaw and her eyelids refused to open.

''Come on then?!'' She urged.

Jane's voice came strained but gentle. ''Maura... please.''

Suddenly flushed with embarrassment Maura climbed off her and she saw it in the way Jane rose rigidly and left without looking back -she had hurt her deeply.

It had been what she had intended but why did it feel so shameful in its success?

And surely it must have been what Jane wanted so why did she not seem eager?

The door opened and Maura wiped her eyes and prepared herself to offer some sort of graceful apology but it was just the old woman, carrying inside a jug of water. She set it on the table next to the tray and looked up at Maura. She was small and her features had been dug deep into her face by age. She gave Lady Doyle a look that could be contempt then departed before the Lady had a chance to thank her.

She drunk then, enough to wash away the taste of the sleeping potion and soon as she did four days of hunger caught up to her. She gratefully took one of the bowls of stew and a hell of bread that waited on the tray for her. The stew was warm and the bread was freshly baked, very unlike what they had been eating those days on the road with Jane.

She had expected Jane to return but when the sun continued its downwards arc into midday Maura decided to look for her, startled by the fact she had grown used to her company.

She found her in the yard, splitting firewood, and she did not interrupt her for some time, enjoying the newfound capability of her legs. Despite the sunlight the air was chilly when she reached for an apple and plucked it from the tree. Maura had never tasted an apple so crisp and sweet, it felt like biting into a childhood memory. She watched Jane with some fascination, the Astapori was using only her left hand to swing down the ax, she must still be in pain from the arrow she had taken, Maura realised.

''Jane...?'' She called out softly, but the foreigner pretended not to hear, uttering her reply with another swing. ''Jane.'' The next swing was crude, shaken by her presence and the wood clattered at Jane's feet. The Astapori sighed, then laid the ax down and turned to her, wiping the sweat off her brow with the back of her hand.

''What is it you require, my Lady?'' She asked politely, hiding her tension behind her composed face but Maura could see it on the tight lines around her eyes.

Maura swallowed, suddenly intimidated by her far more capable body. ''I'm sorry, Jane.''

Jane smiled, offering a small bow. ''You need not apologise to a slave my Lady.'' She reached for the ax again to return to her task, but Maura stopped her, placing a hand on her bare arm without thinking.

''No, I _am_ sorry.'' She knew that Jane would understand she was not apologising only for what happened before. ''And you're not a slave, not here, not with me, and I am sorry I treated you like one.''

Jane watched her carefully. ''It is kind of you to say so, my Lady.'' Maura's heart sunk, she had expected Jane to use her name, she had forgotten how good it sounded when she said it with that exotic accent of hers and had been suddenly reminded before, when she had her pinned against her body.

''I lied to you.'' She admitted. ''I lied when I said I still love him. I don't know when I stopped but I know it is a lie to say that I do now.''

Jane nodded gently.

''But you did not lie.'' Maura said.

''I told you I would not.''

''And Suzanne? Did you not love her then?''

''I never claimed I did.''

Maura watched the way the sun caught her skin and turned it to precious gold. Something in her eyes looked young and peaceful.

''What was it then?''

''I found her desirable.''

''Do you find _me_ desirable?''

A butterfly fluttered between them and Jane held her arm up, letting it land on her knuckles. They both watched it rest for a few instances then dance away, waiting for a reply that did not come.

''I do not love you.'' Maura said, but she had said so many lies that she could not know if this was true.

''I know.'' Jane allowed. She smiled. ''You better go, rest some.''

''And then what?'' Maura asked. ''How long do we need to stay here?''

''Where will we go if we are not here?'' Jane asked. ''Where _is_ there to go?''

''To find my brother.''

''If your brother still lives then he will find you.''

''Here?''

''This forest is the place to find what has been lost.'' She retrieved the ax, piling more wood. ''He will find his way to you, you must have faith.''

''Faith in what?''

''In whatever gave you your legs back.''

''You? The old woman?''

''Neither of us hold this much power, I am afraid. And maybe it is for the best that we do not.''

So full of riddles, Maura thought. ''Thank you.'' She said. ''For bringing me here.''

''Do not speak words you do not mean, my Lady.''

''Under these trees I am Maura, not Lady Doyle.'' She reached for an apple and handed it to her. Jane wiped her hand on her pants before accepting it.

''So be it.''

''How could I have loved him so much at day time and hated him so much during the night?'' She asked, as Jane sat down on the cutting block. When the height difference was gone their conversation felt oddly different.

''I do not know, Maura.'' She bit into the apple, considering the lady.

''Perhaps I never truly loved him.'' Maura whispered. ''But what a terrifying thought, he was my husband.''

''Did he love you?''

''Yes, he did.''

''Do you love your sister?''

Maura blinked but did not allow her surprise to stop her. ''Of course I do.''

''Would you cause such pain to her that you love?''

The answer was only one. ''No.''

Maura saw the sty for the first time when Jane discarded the useless core of the apple. The sound of the animals was strangely comforting.

''Did my father know?'' She asked.

''About what?''

''Did he know the way you feel.''

''I believe he did.''

''This is why he trusted you. Why he ordered _you_ and not one of his sworn men to escort me to Winterfell.''

Jane shrugged.

''Will you join me inside?'' Maura asked. She offered a half laugh. ''I already ate but I can smell the bread baking all the way here and I'm certain I'd love to try it.'' She held her hand out and Jane took it. The Astapori's hand felt rough but warm and familiar in hers.

''Of course.''

* * *

 ** _I expect we'll be staying in the forest for a little while, anything specific you'd like? Lemme know what you think of this chapter_**

 ** _Lk_**


	18. What the Forest takes

**_Ah know you guys been waiting for this, sorry it took this long!_**

 ** _LK_**

* * *

Chapter sixteen: What the Forest Takes

It was surprising but it only took her a day to settle in their rhythm. The food was plain but fresh and plentiful and the water was cold and reminded her of home. She could only hope that if her sister and her father's men had arrived before them and found Winterfell in ruin they would have the mind to quickly depart in search of Doyle bannermen that would take them in.

She had not told Jane but soon as she was sure her legs would not buckle once more she would depart, in search of Cailyn. Maura feared that if she informed the Astapori of her plans then she would attempt to stop her, the foreigner's help, however, could be valuable, since Lady Doyle herself was not skilled in combat. As for her mother, if she was in Collin's company then she was as safe as one could get.

Jane was brushing the horse outside. The mare had been restless but now seemed to ease, after being fed and watered, and she responded to the Astapori's touch with nudges of the head. Jane laughed, trying to avoid the snorting horse and Maura smiled, offering her a cup of honeyed wine. She watched as the Astapori accepted it after setting the brush aside, still not recovered enough to make use of her right arm for the simplest of tasks.

''Dusk will soon be upon us.'' Maura said. ''Join us for dinner?''

''Of course my Lady.''

Despite her request to stop being addressed with her title Maura did not mind the way it sounded when Jane said it. She knew however that her name sounded far more intriguing, following the eastern twists of her accent.

They ate on the floor in front of the fire, stretched out comfortably in thick furs and watching with mild amusement the bent old woman devour her stew sloppily.

''Jane?'' She asked as the Astapori refilled her cup with wine. Maura had never been much of a drinker but she had to admit that this must be the best wine she was tasted in her life.

''Yes?''

''Do you have family?''

She watched her consider her question briefly. ''Yes, I do.''

''Where are they?''

''Back in Astapor where I was born.'' She filled her own cup. ''My mother owned a tavern.''

''And your father?''

''He worked the tavern with her and my brothers.''

Maura leaned forward with interest. She could not for the life of her imagine Jane as a serving girl in a tavern. ''Why did you leave? You wanted to be a warrior?'' It was not an easy concept to grasp, how one could choose violence over family.

''The tavern was destroyed by a fire. We had no other means to make a living, nor did we have the coin for the reparations it needed.'' She dipped a piece of bread into her stew and allowed it to cool. ''My father heard that the Slave Masters offer good coin and it was true.''

''What does that mean?''

The old woman looked up at her pointedly, wiping her face with her sleeve, as if her question was at least idiotic. Jane had stopped eating and Maura reached for her hand as it was laid flat before her.

''I am really sorry Jane. That was terrible.''

The Astapori avoided her gaze, pulling her hand away as she pretended to continue her meal. They did not speak for some time, until the old woman stood and recovered their plates, uncaring whether they had finished or not, and vanished to her little kitchen, leaving them alone.

Jane stood as well, offering the mumbled half pretense of something to do with their horse but Maura felt the need to apologise and joined her as they both turned towards the door. She had had way too much wine for her though and she stumbled in a very unladylike fall forwards. She reached to Jane for support, who had turned to face her, and fell onto her.

She realised too late that she had grasped for her injured arm and looked up ready to apologise and expecting some sort of pained recoil but the Astapori's face was just confused. It took Maura an instant for it to sink in that the arm she was holding was cold and limp.

''Jane...'' She muttered, regaining her balance. ''Your arm...''

The Astapori attempted to step away but Maura reached for her, already rolling up the sleeve of her rough spun shirt.

Black veins rippled through the marble coloured skin of Jane's right arm as it lay motionless in Maura's grasp. It was cold to the touch as if it belonged to a dead woman other than the strong foreigner that stood before her.

''What.. what is this?''

Jane looked down with her like it was the first time she saw it. Her expression did not betray any pain at the rough handling.

''Are you sick?'' Maura pressed, unwilling to let go. ''What happened to you?''

Jane used her left hand to gently loosen Lady Doyle's grasp. ''There are questions whose answers one is not prepared for, my Lady.'' She rolled her sleeve back down to cover her injured limb.

''Do not talk to me in riddles! I've had enough of this!'' Maura countered as the haze of the wine cleared slowly. ''Are you unwell?'' She had not known it but she was now aware that she cared. And not because of Jane's usefulness to her, though she would have liked that to be the case.

''Very well.'' Jane frowned, the muscles of her neck tensing. ''This forest gives but also takes in equal measure.'' She had not meant to but she reflexively looked down at Maura's legs as she stood.

''This is why I'm healed...'' Maura whispered. ''Why? Why would you do this?'' She was met with a silence she did not like. ''How do you expect me to ever repay you for this?''

''I don't.'' Jane stopped her. ''When my Queen bought me and my Unsullied brothers and sisters she made me a free woman. I do as I choose with myself, I chose to serve her as I am able from the North and then from King's Landing. Now I choose to use my freedom to ensure your safety.''

''And your vow of silence?''

''A lie.''

''Why?'' She could not comprehend how a warrior would ever compromise their ability to fight for a cause so mundane as stranger's daughter.

''People talk when they think you cannot betray them.'' She smiled. ''I did serve my queen to the best of my abilities.''

''And now?''

''I will continue to do so whenever I am able. But once you are well I will take you to your brother, wherever he may be.''

''Why?'' The question kept returning.

''You know why.'' From all that Jane had said this had been the only one spoken in anger. And indeed Maura knew why, however much she feared to admit so. It had been clear for a while now.

''I do not want such a gift.'' She said. ''Not like this.''

''It is not up to you to refuse it.''

''And what if I lead this place? Won't whatever sorcery the old woman has forced upon me disappear if I leave before it is completed?'' She did not know if she would actually attempt such a thing but her pride still made her ask.

''Then I will die and you will crawl to your death.''

Maura could not know if Jane had always been so harsh or if something in the forest had changed her. It was not a bargain she had consented to and she was angry at the Astapori for taking such initiative on her behalf. A Doyle woman would never count on charity from a stranger. She hated Jane for being so single mindedly kind.

She let her go and Jane turned her back, walking out of the house into the night. She did not follow her outside, she wondered if her rejection of Jane's good deed had hurt her more than cruel words ever could. She watched the fierceness in her step as she walked further and further out of sight, all long limbs and jagged asymptotes.

The way she had crashed into Maura's life was almost to be marveled. She had been brought chained and starved and yet had been all fire and fighting. She had to admit that this was something she admired in Jane. Also, her little sister adored the unbroken Astapori. She however had been bent down by her accident... her father's death, Garret's abuse.

She had never asked Jane, she thought, but all these days on the road, with these men, could they have possibly...

She did not want to know, nor could she believe Jane would say, but it did not take a very imaginative mind to conjure up the most brutal of pictures.

When she climbed into bed that night Jane had yet to return. Be it anyone else Maura might have worried but the Forest seemed intent on protecting the foreign woman and she did not fear for her safety. She did however fear her return, in the sense that things would never be the same between them, not after everything Maura has said to her in her anger after she woke up from the sleeping draft and certainly not after the revelation of what the Forest took.

She opened her eyes and he was there again, clad in his royal reds, all pride and ego. She was pinned under the weight of the covers and she would not have shared such a thought with any living soul but she was terrified. She had been, she realised, terrified of him all along, yet the echo of her powerful name would never allow such a thing. A wolf fears nothing.

A cub, all alone in a lion's den, she does fear. She has no pack, no escape into the open woods. She is trapped and the proud lion roars and ruffles its rich mane as he approaches. She whines her submission but it does not seem enough because his claws are out and his lips are pulled back over blackened gums that seep white froth.

Then the cub is not alone anymore. She sees the snarling black wolf, a gigantic Cerberus, as it tears through the lion's throat, spraying her with blood.

She wakes in a panic, swinging her legs off the bed and rising, before remembering with mild shock that she has full use of them again. Her bare feet didn't feel cold against the hardwood floor, another oddity of this house no question.

She pushed the door open, suddenly remembering Jane's departure, and wondering whether the Astapori had returned during the night.

She saw her then, stirring awake from where she had been sleeping, curled in front of her bedroom door and their eyes met in brief surprise.

She knelt down to her, smiling, and before Jane got a chance to scramble to her feet, she kissed her.

* * *

 ** _Yes, yes, here it is, you had to wait a while and suffer a while for it, but here we are ladies and gentlemen. Now where we go from here, that is truly uncertain but we've gotten this far and its something to be smiling about. Lemme know what you think!_**

 ** _love y'all_**

 ** _:D_**

 ** _LK_**


	19. Cinammon Farewell

**_Hello everybody, I do know it's been a while but don't worry I'm not dead lol. Still here still writing, hopefully next chap will be around soon. As always lemme know what you think of this and_**

 ** _Happy new Year y'all!_**

 ** _LK_**

* * *

It had been very different than she had ever expected.

She lay naked under the furs, Jane's chest pressed against her back. The Astapori's finger's trailed absently over her shoulder.

And that was all.

She had certainly expected something far more heated, far more passionate but they had just lain there until dawn came upon them.

Her clothes lay in a heap on the floor, discarded in her rush to show her fearlessness to the patient Astapori but every touch that came after had been chaste. The pads of Jane's fingers rustled over her skin, like a blind woman trying to memorize a map. The wound on her chest, Maura saw, had healed nicely, wrapped tight still in linen bandages provided by the old woman.

A witch, Maura thought.

A witch who did not need to be told to not enter their room.

''Is this a decision made by night that day shall laugh upon?'' Jane's husky voice came for the first time in hours. Her dark hair and coarse clothes made Maura's skin shudder with familiarity.

''I am sorry.'' She said in place of answer.

''Tell me to stop touching you. Tell me to leave.''

''I don't want you to.''

''Order me then.''

''I can't.''

Last night, in the dim light of the candle she had been far more comfortable of her bared body. Now she was not so sure but she found the courage somehow to turn and face her.

''Why do you love me?'' She could feel the warmth rushing to her face but badly needed to look into Jane's eyes.

''Why do people do things?'' Jane asked her.

''Money. Power?'' She tried not to look down at the Astapori's injured limb that lay between them.

Jane laughed. ''I am a free woman. I need neither of these things.''

''Then what is it you expect of me?''

''You were kind to me...'' Her good hand tenderly brushed the side of Maura's face. ''I have not met one as kind or as beautiful as you, Lady Doyle.''

Maura felt herself blushing again. ''Is that what you say to all the pretty girls you meet?'' She said good-naturedly.

Jane smiled. ''No.'' She said. ''Just you.'' She kissed her cheek. ''You are not a little girl anymore, Lady Doyle. You've grown into a very brave and intelligent woman.'' They both knew that by now the mention of her title was merely a game between them. The Astapori leaned in again, kissing the corner of her mouth and then her lips.

Maura felt her body respond, closing the already tight distance between them. She could feel now Jane's heart hammering against her.

''You said you knew.'' She said in desperation.

Jane leaned her forehead against her collarbone. ''Knew what?''

''What love feels like.''

''Yes.''

''I have read every book in Winterfell but I have not found one that helped me understand.'' Jane's breath was warm on her chest. ''Is there a book in your language that can help me? I am so lost that I do not know where to start.''

Jane reached for her hand, twining their fingers between them. ''It's all here. You've always known, you've just... forgotten.''

''Can you remind me?''

''Of course.'' She kissed her hand then slowly stood up. ''Tomorrow.'' She said.

''Tomorrow?''

''Tomorrow we ride out to find your brother.'' Maura's hesitation was worrisome. ''Are you not well enough to travel?''

''I am!'' She stood up to join her, realising a little too late that she was still in a state of quite obvious undress. She grabbed for the blanket of furs, not quickly enough to miss Jane's amused look.

''Such divinely crafted body needs not hide in embarrassment.'' She said, following the expanse of her bare arms as she clutched the blanket to her chest.

''When does one who cannot read learn to speak with such a honeyed tongue?'' Maura asked, trying to ease her own discomfort.

Jane smiled. ''One who travels also learns a great many things.'' She reached for her, softly loosening her fingers open until the blanket slid to the floor. She let her gaze roam down briefly then brought her attention back to Maura's nervous eyes. ''I'll get us some bread and eggs to break our fast while you get dressed.'' She said, closing the door behind her.

When had the mute stranger grown so bold, Maura thought, laughing to herself as she gathered her clothes. It was indeed eggs she found being cooked over the stove when she left the room, next to a cup of warm goat's milk.

''Where is she?'' She asked, taking a seat and accepting the heel of bread Jane handed her. ''The witch?''

''She's in her room, old age, I'm afraid.'' Jane said warmly. ''She is not used to people and it exhausts her greatly.''

She watched as the Astapori took a seat opposite her. ''How did you come to know this woman?''

''She was taken prisoner with me when she walked to a nearby village to trade in herbs. A group of bandits found her and they were to burn her on the stake for witchcraft and they would kill me after.'' She took out a small pouch from her belt and lightly dusted their milk with a reddish brown powder. ''I killed them all but one of them managed to put his knife in my chest. I was to die that day, had she not been there.''

Maura took a whiff then tasted it. ''What is this?'' It was strong and slightly bitter.

''The only thing I took when I left home.'' She reached inside her shirt and produced a piece of parchment. ''A raven came in while you were still under the thrall. One of your father's bannermen has given shelter to your brother.''

Maura took the letter in her hands with disbelief, looking down at the unfamiliar handwriting. ''How did the raven find us here?'' She asked.

''You still cannot believe that this forest has its ways of getting things done?''

 _Sweet Lady Doyle, your brother Collin and your sister Cailyn have sought my protection in Castle Stoneward. They firmly believe that you are alive and well and eagerly expect your arrival. Please burn this letter and ride here at once._

Tears of joy rolled down her cheeks at the knowledge that both her brother and her sister were alive. She was indeed so overcome with happiness that she could not find it in her to be angered Jane had not shared the letter with her earlier.

''I do apologise, my Lady, but I knew you would want to join them as soon as you read this letter but you were not fit for travel.''

''Oh thank you, thank you so much Jane!'' She threw the letter in the fire as she had been requested. ''This is excellent news, Castle Stoneward is half a fortnight's ride from the Weeping Forest!''

Jane cleared the table, opening a map between them. ''I am afraid I have not been able to find it on this map.'' She admitted with some hesitancy. It took Maura a second to realise what would be so difficult since it was written down with a very obvious dark ink.

''Oh Jane, I am so sorry...'' She took her hand apologetically. ''I could start helping you with your reading again if you'd like?''

Jane nodded silently.

''How terribly thoughtless of me!'' She did not release her hand. ''Please forgive me, I have been quite awful.''

The Astapori looked away at that. She could not know what she could possibly say that would not betray how wounded she had been but it was absurd how one of Maura's touches could make it all irrelevant. She brought her hand up to her lips once more. ''That is in the past.'' She finally said. ''What matters now is getting you to safety. Your brother will be gathering forces, no doubt, to reclaim Winterfell.''

''I believe you're right. And I need to be by his side.''

''A wolf is stronger in a pack.'' Jane agreed.

They spent the rest of the day preparing for their journey. Jane made sure they would have thick furs and boots to keep them warm and Maura packed water and food. The witch's supplies were nothing like the royal meals she had been used to growing up but there was always fresh meat and milk, along with eggs and vegetables from her garden. Jane was into her room for a while and Maura could hear her talk, presumably taking some sort of reply from the old woman.

Night had fallen upon them by the time everything was prepared. Their dinner was plain that night and they ate alone, later Jane took a bowl of soup and a cup of wine to the witch's bedroom.

The problem suddenly made itself apparent when Maura stood to head to bed. She looked at Jane who remained seated by the fire, uncertain of what she should do. Then Maura laughed gently and held her hand out for the Astapori.

''Come with me.'' She said and Jane followed sheepishly.

They walked down the corridor hand in hand and Maura could not help but think how beautiful that day had been despite the fact she was away from her family, despite the fact her father was dead and even despite the fact the King's guards were looking for them to execute them for Garret's murder. Finally she turned to the woman next to her and saw how beautiful she, too, was.

She could not quite remember who's idea it had been but she was suddenly helping Jane out of her shirt and trousers until they lay together in bare skin. There was a shallow kiss and then a deeper one, in the fragile light of her candle and then her desire to explore took over and it was her hands that run up and down the soldier's body, tracing soft curves and hard muscle.

She woke at the tickle of sunlight on her shoulder, getting past the haze of sleep to slide back into her clothes. When she looked up she found Jane wide awake, staring at her and she rubbed the back of her neck. They seemed past the point of embarrassment, by now.

They broke their fast in silence, both afraid that their night had been a dream that words could shatter. Maura waited and waited for the Witch to come and give her final goodbyes so she could at least thank her before she did. Jane did not seem to worry much about it so Maura supposed she would eventually descend the staircase to show them out.

Soon however their horse was all saddled up and they were both in the yard, ready to leave, Jane set her satchel on the ground, asking for Maura to wait up so she could at least give her one last word of goodbye. When she returned her face was grim and her jaw set.

''She's dead.'' She said, climbing on the saddle in front of the Lady.


	20. A Queen's bed

**_Just letting you know, I'm not dead, still here, still writing. Maybe one or two chapters left after this one. Enjoy y'all_**

* * *

She realised only after they had been riding for half a day that Jane's right hand was wrapped around her waist as the Astapori rode behind her. She traced two fingers that rested steadily against her stomach in the pretense of keeping her from falling off and she found them respond through the glove as Jane's hand turn to receive hers without looking.

She looked down when Maura squeezed as if still unfamiliar with the way both her hands now worked like they used to. The witch's gift had been in cruel kindness. Jane had never known the forest to give bac once it had received but it seemed an exception had been made -for the right price.

What terrified her, though, was that even if she could she would not have rejected the witch's last offering. She had to protect Maura and she could not do so with the same competence without the use of both her arms to fight. She knew, with some regret, that the witch whose name she'd never known had in her capricious manner understood that. And so she squeezed back, in Maura's hand nestled in her own as they rode past the northern frozen beauty.

They passed by the outskirts of a village and saw the first people they had seen in days but did not stop, in fear they'd be asked questions they could not safely answer. Still Maura found it pleasant, she had grown up surrounded by people she loved and she had missed even her sister's insistent and often excruciatingly loud presence.

Jane on the other hand did not seem to mind the enforced solidarity. She had traveled alone across realms and, quite on the contrary, reveled in it after training for years and living in the same quarters as dozens of others soldiers.

''Jane?'' She called out as they once more sunk into the forest. The Astapori's small hummed sound was enough f a response. ''Have you met many women before you came up North?''

''What is it you ask of me?'' She said carefully. Maura could feel the rumble of her chest as she spoke.

''Your queen,was she like you?'' She paused uncomfortably. ''Like you and Suzanna, I mean.''

''You want to know whether I spent my nights in her bed.'' Jane asked and the amusement was plain in her voice. Maura exhaled audibly, she was not used being made fun of.

''Yes.'' She admitted, reluctantly.

''I did.'' Jane said in the fondness of a pleasant old memory. ''Does it cause you worry?''

''You were with a queen.'' Lady Doyle explained, or tried to. She had yet to clear in her mind what I was she felt. ''Why did you leave?''

''I already told you I was to serve her in the north.''

''And now? Will you return South?''

Jane sighed. ''When she made me a free woman she gave me the choice to be where I please.''

''And where is that?'' Maura pressed.

''With you.'' The reply was quick enough to be truthful.

''She was a queen.'' Maura said, as if the fact was reason enough.

''So are you.''

How could she have forgotten than, Maura thought. It felt like a distant dream and somewhere deep she had wised it were, this way her father would still be Lord of the North and Garret would still be her white knight.

And then she realised this was not what she wanted. The naive little girl that had been married to Garrett had died the first night, in her wedding bed, or perhaps she had drawn her last breath when her father's head rolled down the executioner's block. The woman that Jane helped now dismount their weary horse was more of a distant cousin to her.

She wondered, as the Astapori prepared their dimmed campfire, whether the change was apparent on her once umarred features. She could trace faint marks, reminders of Garrett's spousal touch.

Yet they did not in any way match the healing wounds she saw on Jane's back and shoulders as she took her shirt off to wash by the river. She walked in deeper letting the freezing water swallow her up to the waist, not caring about getting her trousers and boots soaked.

Maura watched her from a distance, observing the way the moonlight hovered unobtrusively over her bronze tinted skin. She did not know why but when Jane turned to her, unabashedly, yet far away to not truly be exposed, Maura found herself slipping out of her dressing gown.

Cold waters were a familiarity. She had been raised in one of the coldest places in the realm, her childhood had been full of cheery midnight swimming with Cailyn, which had stopped when she wanted herself to be considered mature enough to be allowed to marry.

There was something different about this night, however. The pale light had never been more brilliant, nor had the water embraced her this way before. She knew they were leaving themselves undefended this way yet she did not doubt Jane always carried at least a pair of daggers with her and she suddenly was willing to sacrifice safety for the sake of… whatever that was they were doing.

Jane was looking away from her, though it was not for lack of knowledge of her arrival, there was no way to tread silently through the waters especially in her voluptuous undergarments. She reached out a hand, tracing one of the long trails of the whip. Jane shuddered but did not stop her or turn around. Maura leaned in, planing a kiss at the spot her shoulder met the neck.

It was then that the Astapori finally moved, cupping her face in her hands and kissing her gently, allowing the moment to continue but at the same time refusing to add any kind of force. She felt Maura's arms encircling her waist, proving she had no intent of pushing her away.

It was Jane who pulled away first, tentatively brushing a strand of hair out of Maura's eyes.

''I have nothing to give you.'' She said, as if that explained the reason she had stopped.

''I do not need anything.'' Maura replied, pulling her back down to her, enchanted by the way her eyelashes caught tiny droplets of river water.

The next kiss was almost exploratory. Maura had never thought she'd be given a chance to know someone as intimately as Jane allowed her to discover her body, hands trailing absently into uncharted territory, like a blind woman trying to read her scars as if they were words of a foreign tongue.

Strong hands rested on her waist, tilting her back for another kiss.

Something became entangled at her feet and she yelped. Jane laughed, looking down at the dark shadows of a school of fish, scattering away from them in surprise. Maura pulled away from her as if the sudden tug to reality had caused her doubt.

Yet she saw the doubt n Jane's arms when she leaned in and she did not hesitate to kiss her back. The Astapori smiled, pressing a finger to her lips as she pointed on the other bank of the ricer, where a stag had bent to drink.

Maura turned to watch the handsome creature, allowing Jane to ambush her in an embrace, picking her up in her arms to take them both out of the river to dry in front of the fire, limbs entangled under Jane's coarse cloak, as if their body could accidentally merge in one overnight.

At the first trace of sunlight Maura woke alone to find Jane knee deep in the river, using her spear to collect their breakfast not willing to go through their supplies when they had enough source so readily available.

They departed shortly after that, following a careful consideration of their map, to avoid riding into a village where people may be tempted to collect the bounty on their heads.

''Did you love her?'' She asked Jane, ficing her eyes on a mountain top in the distant horizon. ''Your queen.''

''Yes.'' Jane replied without hesitation.

''Do you still?''

''I do.''

Maura seemed to think for a few instances, her silence enough of an answer for Jane. It was almost amusing to see the all powerful queen of the realm, the daughter of the greatest Lord in the north be in… was that self doubt?

''There is more than one way to love someone.'' She said gently. ''I cannot but love the woman who set me free.'' She let one of her hands trail down Maura's waist. ''But I have given my heart to you, you need not worry.'' Her fingers traveled gently along her side. ''But I would understand if…'' She withdrew her hand in uncertainty. ''If you don't want your brother to know.'' Maura reached for her but did not find her hand. ''I could seek work in his guard or perhaps the stables, somewhere away from you that he would not suspect-''

''I do not fear my brother's opinion, Jane, he wants me to be happy just as much as my father did.'' She leaned back against her, seeking more contact. ''I will not change my mind about this.'' She felt Jane breathe heavily behind her.

It was the horse that saw it first, or perhaps smelled, the blood that they were too distracted to see. It rose on its hind legs, threatening to throw them off in its fear. Jane's arm was the only thing that kept her on the saddle and when she looked up she saw it too.

''Heavens above…'' She exclaimed.

The two flayed bodies did not resemble humans enough anymore to be certain whether they were male or female. The banned of house Hoyt was draped over the rope that held them suspended from the tree overhead.

Jane swore in her native tongue, in a tone that left little room for the word to be anything else. She tried to turn the horse around but an arrow caught the beat in the flank and it collapsed, taking them down too.

Maura found her body pinned under their ares massive torso, pressed still against Jane's chest. She felt the Astapori stir under her, trying to crawl away but the weight of the horse had them trapped and when its weight was lifted, hands wrapped around her wrists, pulling her away from Jane.

''Lady Doyle.'' The man who towered over her grinned. ''I am pleased no harm has come to you.''

''Lord Hoyt!''


	21. The Sweetest Orders

_**Hello everybody. This is the last chapter for this fanfic, as you've noticed I've made it quite large to wrap up our story and yet leave a possibility for a sequel in the future. For now I was planning on working a little more on my Moonstruck universe, if you have not read it you can find it in my stories by clicking my username. Thank you for bearing with me in this story, I know my updates were not as frequent as I'd have liked them to be but I'm glad you stuck around and I hope you've enjoyed it to the end.**_

 _ **L**_

Chapter twenty: Sweetest Orders

Jane had never been stranger to darkness. Growing up her training always took place in the small hours and when the time for rest came the luxury of lit barracks was sparse. She could eat, dress and sleep in complete darkness and most importantly, in total silence.

And yet now her thoughts dilated the blank space, making her often reach out with her shackled hands, in case she was not alone anymore.

She was more or less certain that she had been left in the dungeon to away some resourceful yet painful end or simply to expire in darkness, surrounded by rats and worms and such vermin as befit her low birth.

Ironically, in such a place her mind traveled back to all the other things she had done in absolute darkness. Flashes f the rustle of skin on skin, the smell of sweat and wine, intoxicating in it's own familiarity. The sound of a drawn breath, a trapped thing against a lover's throat.

And then, crystal clear in the pool of her mind, Maura's throat, reflecting the ripples of the water, shadow against white skin that night night in the river.

Had she come there by herself, Jane would now allow herself to die. For a warrior death is but the expected outcome, a death in battle indeed is the most one could expect of honour in their world of limited propabiliies. A death here, in a dungeon, covered in filth and dying as the cold seemed into her bones, there was little honour in that. She would however not have minded, had she been alone. It would simply be a release, the fulllfillment of a predestined purpose.

But she wasn't. She had not been for a while now, not since arriving in Winterfell. Perhaps the only thing able to elevate one of her status to honour was purpose. And by all the Gods, purpose she had.

On might think that an unsullied warrior, a creator born out of brutal training, with all cravings and all emotions so methodically eradicated, would be incapable of love. And yet she had no words to describe the swelling in her chest that had very little to do with the persisted coughing, brought on by the chill of the dungeon.

Every time she closed her eyes -making little difference to the dark- she dreamt of riding. She did not dream often, not since she had been a child, but now she was trapped in an endless cycle of galloping atop a dead horse, alone in an empty field.

She had fallen off that horse, she was certain about that, when the door creaked open and she was pulled out of the dream and onto her knees.

A torch was brought close to her face, most likely to ensure her identity and then she was unceremoniously dragged outside the cell.

She made no effort to stand, unwilling to indicate that she was more alert than they expected, fearing deeply whether they were right to judge her useless. Her guards, two men that did not sound -or smell- like the brightest men in the caste, for she presumed it was a castle, eventually gave up and bodily carried her, ascending endless flights of stairs, until the clean air of the surface hit her in the face like a closed fist.

Jane considered using the shackles around her arms to strangle one of her guards then attempt to use his weapon to kill the other but she had neither seen nor heard of Maura and she did not wish to be a fugitive in a castle she did not know and in which she had not idea where to look for the Doyle Lady.

She dangled over the incredibly thick shoulders of her guard, smelling the cheap wine oozing our of his pores as the chill of winter slipped through the tatters of hr clothes and she wondered just how long it had been since she was sentenced into the dark. The insanity had bounced endlessly around her head, the North was always cold, it could be that a whole moon or even a whole year had passed while she lay trapped there in her chains, while Maura was in such terrible danger.

Or perhaps -and that had been Jane's cruelest fear- she was already dead, victim of the senseless war of their realm.

The lit torches flashed like eyes of an exotic beast to her light deprived eyes. Somewhere along the way the gravel of the floor changed into royal crimson carpet and then to cool tiles as she was thrown down.

She allowed her body to go limp, feigning uncounsciousness, and then when she was awakened by a kick to the ribs, disorientation.

The chamber was large and brightly lit by dozens of torches. Maura was the first thing she saw as she gathered her legs under her and sat up. She was in a comfortable recliner, wearing a rich blue gown, but her eyes were deeply set and there was a dark bruise over her cheek.

''Janie...'' The disembodied voice slithered, and Jane heard the footsteps too late to realise he was right behind hr in his silky tunic and leather britches.

He was monstrously blown out of proportion by her forced persepective on the floor, his boots enormous and his body like a stone tower as he leaned over her and cupped her face.

He was clean but smelled of sweat and disease, sweet and strong like rotten fruit, his teeth were dangerously sharp and white.

''I have neglected you for a long time, could you forgive me?'' he whispered close to her ear, his breath wet on her kin. She kept her gaze fixed on his boots, unsullied were trained within an inch of their lives to fear no man and yet there was something so vile in him that for the first time in her life Jane was not only repulsed but also afraid. Fear was a foreign emotion to her, so unfamiliar that it physically paralyzed her.

''I was so busy you see...'' he continued. ''..with sweet little Maura here.''

As their first test in resolve the unsullied children are given a newborn puppy. They are taught to care for it, feed and clean it, day and night until its a grown loyal dog. And the day this happens, in the training session they are told to strangle the creature bare handedly. The animal at first shies away but its great than its instinct of self preservation and soon it whines in pain under it's master's touch and expires.

''Speak!'' he spat at her, backhanding her across the face. ''I know you are not mute, woman!''

For their final test they are presented with a child, no more than months old. And when they are covered with that child's blood then a terrible warrior emerges, devoid of empathy and incapable of fear. The same warrior that Lord Hoyt was now effortlessly crushing.

Blood spattered the tiles as her bottom lip split open, ruining what was left of the shirt. The strong copper taste seemed to help bring her out of the daze: blood meant battle, she was trained for this, but what sort of battle could she wage, chained at a Lord's feet, less than a dog.

She expected another blow that never came and she looked up in confusion to see him approach Maura instead.

''People preach about love...'' he mused, grabbing Lady Doyle by the arm and yanking her towards him. Maura allowed herself to be pushed against the dinner table in the middle of the room with ease that let Jane know this was not the first time. ''There is nothing pure, nothing true in what you call love.'' He pressed her face down into the wood, trapping her hands above her head in one of his, in quite the vulgar position. ''Love is simply ill conceiver lust,'' he continued, kissing the side of her neck. ''Fear, however, is the truest of emotions.'' He turned to Jane with a smile obviously pleased with her horrified expression as he pressed himself against Lady Doyle's back in a constricting embrace.

''This castle is under siege,'' he whispered sharply to them, a perverse intimacy. ''The Lady's brother has finally tracked us down and I know well what he'll do to me when he finds out what me and his Lady sister have been up.'' He wound a lock a golden hair around his finger and gave a sharp twist. ''I do not intend on letting that happen, until not before I enjoy my prize one last time, and what a prize it is that delicious fear of yours, Bastard.''

Jane let her head drop back heavily on the cool tiles, staring up as the high ceiling swam around her in unpredictable, dizzying patterns. This nightmare was perhaps the result of her death and the beginning of whatever eternal punishment cruel Gods had invented for her numerous evil deeds. She found no reason however for this hideous suffering to be extended to Maura.

''Now, don't you look away, Janie Jane, don't look away of I might just need to make this a little uncomfortable for the sweet Lady.''

Jane's head snapped up as he elicited a yelp from Maura, dragging a heavily adorned dagger lightly across her bared shoulder. A faint red line that bled thinly appeared instantly. ''A few good men can defend this castle against hundreds of soldiers, and I have a lot more than that Jane.''

An unsullied soldier will always be subject to his mater. Order him to stand in the sun and he will stand until the next day comes and then the next and he collapses on his post. And so Jane stood. She wished for someone to order her to remain standing, wondering if all her strength came after all from brutally taught discipline and obedience and whether, as a free woman, she was was nothing.

If her soul and resolve was small and petty like her life.

What sort of free man would let such a thing happen to the woman he loves and just stand watching, simply because he was told there was nothing he could do, simply because he was starved and chained and beaten half to death.

And so what.

Did the fact her legs were about to give make Maura's life less meaningful? Did it make the finger shaped bruises he was now leaving on her thigh any easier to bear-

''No...'' She said, grabbing onto the table for support, meaning her voice to sound way stronger than it ended up coming out. ''I won't-''

She stared down wordlessly as his dagger came down on her hand, piercing through and pinning her to the wood.

The pain came with some delay, the time it took for her uncooperative brain to catch up. She gasped, unable to conjure up enough air in her lungs for anything louder. It was shock that made her uninjured hand move to the hilt of the dagger and he laughed turning his attention back to Maura, forcing her face away so she could not see the Astapori trapped to her side.

Jane's hand, locked around the hilt, pulled, hard and fast, fingers spasming in pain. Blood poured freely, pulsing rhythmically with the beat of her heard. The dagger clicked on the floor as she clutched her bleeding hand.

It was probably not been the brightest idea she'd ever had, judging from the amount of blood she was now losing, and, more importantly, the rate at which she was losing it. If she went on like this she knew that there was very little she could do about passing out and quite soon.

She was not used at feeling pain, at least not experience it this way. It was as if the fear had unlocked something inside her, some remnants of humanity her training had not managed to obliterate, some piece of the puzzle of her psyche that awakened as she stood on the verge of losing everything.

The pain almost paralysed her arm up to the shoulder in sere agony. Had she known how to she might have knelt and screamed the remaining instances of her life away like a common wounded peasant. She could not understand how she had been the woman who once was allowed to mount a dragon, fearless behind her Queen, but all that was so long ago. How had a simple, mortal man, reduced her to this scared bloody mess.

She knew he had visited her cell, and quite often at that, but this was not the first time she had been beaten or tortured, but there was something about hi, something that made his reptilian features more terrifying than a roaring dragon.

And then she knew that of all the days in her life this could not be the one she remembered fear. This man could bleed and what bleeds can be killed. Had she been trained all her life to be afraid of asingle man then it had all been for nothing. A soldier that cannot fight has not purpose and when all she knows was fighting then what is she without purpose? Nothing.

He had reached to that conclusion himself and payed her no mind anymore, busying himself with the way Maura writhed under him. Jane's hands wrapped blindly around the hilt of the sword that hang on his hip and she pulled it out with a whiny hiss. Her hands locked and he turned to her with surprise, not bothering to move away from the Lady.

She had the chance to finally see his fear as she swung.

His head tumbled instantly on the ground but for a few instances his body remained standing as if propelled by some invisible force. Maura, sensing his unusual muscle twitch, turned a weary look at him, then screamed.

She scrambled away, showered in blood, lost her balance and fell to the floor, crawling away from his body as he collapsed. Her hands slipped on the blood as it poured out rapidly through the severed arteries of his neck, as she tried to smoothen down the gown that had bunched around her hips.

She looked up at Jane's lost expression and could not help but curl into herself in fear. The Astapori still clenched the sword but her arms were already trembling in exhaustion, or perhaps shock at having killed the first man that had managed to bring her fear.

Lord Hoyt's guard fell upon her like a pack of mad dogs until Maura lost her slender outline through the mass of armour and muscled bodies. There was not time or way for Maura to react as the Astapori was buried in the sea of sweaty flesh.

She had no time to process much else either as a cluster of men burst in through the ornate double doors, their armour clattering, adding to the noise of the wide hall.

''The gates!'' one of them shouted. ''They're tearing down the gates!''

A thunderous sound spread past all the noise, screams echoing all the way from the yard.

* * *

Jane laid on her back, immobilized by necessity. Her chains, still there, were whispers of steel against skin, but they were probably the last thing keeping her trapped. Even without them she knew with certainty that she not be able to rise.

Her breath came wheezing out in a white mist in the chilly air of her cell. She could neither tell how she had gotten there, nor for how long.

She could feel the irregularities of the cold stone floor on her back but every time she coughed her dark surroundings seemed to pulsate like a bright fire. The silence was strange, there were no other prisoners, at least not close enough for her to hear.

They would certainly kill her now, after what she'd done. For once she had been impulsive, she had not considered her escape or what would become of Maura after he was dead but now she could only lie in her cell and wonder, nightmarish scenarios of the woman she had loved being torn apart.

Unsullied were trained into an obeying killing machine. For once, executing a decision she had made herself, felt right but not right enough to have risked all she held dear.

And yet, from the floor of what may be her last living quarter, there was little she could do to redeem for her moment of thoughtlessness.

The door creaked open and for the first time in her life her mind held no plans of escape. Eve if the guard was alone, trapped inside her incapacitated body, the Astapori had no way of getting past him.

The man that entered, first, however, could not possibly be a guard, not in the brilliant blue shirt he wore to underline pale blue eyes that perfectly matched his fair hair. He was tall and seemed to expand endlessly above her.

''Yes,'' he said, simply, otherwordly illuminated by the light of the torches in the corridor behind him. ''That is her.''

Just as suddenly as he came he turned on his heel and departed, but the light remained, her door hanging open like an unspoken promise of freedom but at the same time a taunt, for she could not follow.

Two men in full guard armour walked in and Jane was suddenly lifted in the air.

The pain grew, multiplied by their crude handling and she fell into a dark abyss of unawareness that was soon replaced by what could either be a dream or just a fever twisted memory.

The Witch, surrounded by an odd glow, her white hair spread around her face like a benevolent Medusa. Their mute cohabitation in the warped passing of time inside the Weeping Forest, out of which Jane walked out barely months older when she had known it had been years. The hundreds of books she had been able to understand even though she did not yet possess the gift of being able to read words written.

A place where she had almost forgotten the burden of being a soldier and was taught how to be human again, all in absolute silence. That same silence she had taken so long to break out of, even when she chanced upon Maura in the forest.

She often wondered if it had been the Witch's doing, when she found herself suddenly unable to remember how to yield a sword and had been captured, led to Winterfell in chains. She could not exactly pinpoint the instant i was gone from both her body and mind, for she had not missed it when she was in the old woman's house, but perhaps that oblivion was part of the charm as well.

When she woke Jane found herself laying atop a soft, warm bed. She brought her hands before her face and despite the deep wounds around her wrists the shackles were now gone, her left hand thickly wrapped in a bandage that smelled of balm.

Her movements felt odd now, unrestricted, as if she'd gotten used to the heavy motion delay of the chains and suddenly her arms were far faster than she'd ever recalled. She looked around for a familiar face but found none in the emptiness of her small chamber.

Slowly, careful to keep her shackles from making a sound, then recalling their absence, Jane sat up. Her chest was heavy but that momentary freedom felt different and nice on her skin. The fire burnt bright o her left and it would have seemed odd, considering the sunlight streaming through the window, had Jane now known the north was colder than anywhere she'd ever been before. By the bedside was a cup of water and a flagon of wine, which she poured after draining the water but did not drink. It was not fear of poison, if they wanted her dead she doubted they would have gone to so much trouble as to move her to a room with a view to the yard.

She rose and she could see the dead being wheeled away from the ruins of battle. One of the castle walls had been badly damaged during the siege but she saw no signs of fire and the sight of the Doyle sigil on the banner gave her a mixture of emotions. If Collin had found Maura harmed or worse, had he himself survived the siege then he had no reason to keep her alive. Without being able to stop herself she started looking for the blue gown she had last seen on her among the piles of dead soldiers but her room was high enough to prevent her from making entirely certain and she knew that the possibility of falling asleep once more without knowing seemed insane.

The door opened and Jane jumped, reading for a sword on her hip that as not there. Thankfully it did not seem like she required one against the petite twin maids -for they looked so much alike they could only be twins- that tiptoed in.

They seemed young in a way Jane could tell they weren't, possibly boasting as long as twenty summers. They dragged behind them a large copper tub and begun heating a cauldron over the fire. Jane realised their intention only a little too late, just after her torn and dirty shirt started being repeatedly tugged by the shorter one. Despite her protests Jane had to eventually accept her fate and allow herself to be undressed and pushed into the water.

Warm water was a luxury she was not accustomed to nor could ever expect to be. It seemed so long since Maura had made her sit in the tub when she first arrived to Winterfell and even longer still since she had laid endlessly with her Queen, covered by hot water and surrounded by exotic wines and fruit.

The twins seemed that except from their chambermaid duties were also trained as healers and they proceeded to dutifully clean every cut and scrape on her body.

Jane had spoken but briefly, only to voice her unwillingness and the twins seemed to suppose she held no understanding of the common tongue, interpreting her silence as ignorance, and as they continued cleaning wounds that had been long neglected or wounds freshly obtained, they begun to talk to each other quite freely, mostly making observations that, as Jane soon realised, had to do with her.

She flushed a deep shade of red at their almost childish giggling and enthusiasm regarding her physique. Their smiles, she now observed, were not only in dutiful pleasantry but also in shared admiration of what they considered a charming and exotic barbarian.

They took a long time washing and untangling her previously uncared for hai, which had now grown past her shoulders, all rich black curls that suddenly shone in the glow of the fire. When they finally dressed her they put her in dark silk, embroidered with the Doyle wolf and fine sturdy gloves and boots. Jane could not help but notice that she had not been allowed a weapon, despite her polite treatment, and her spear was nowhere in sight.

Suddenly, despite her anxiety regarding her situation and despite smell like winter blossoms from the scented water, Jane felt her own exhaustion. When she was allowed to sit back on the edge of the bed and the pale skinned northern girls were lacing her boots, she realised she was unable to stand once more, which was unfortunate since _He_ entered her chamber.

* * *

Maura felt condemned to eternal waiting. Her heart hammered against her chest, looking for an escape route past the constricting cage of her ribs. Collin had always been a brave but impulsive young man, one who took decisions very quickly and changed his mind rarely.

Seeing him after so long was very odd. He had grown taller, she thought, if such was possible in that length of time.

His beard was neatly trimmed and gave him a certain roughness that the dash of blond curls around his face could not longer deny him. Telling him all these things had not been easy, not had it been a decision exactly, but his sight after so long made her lips part and words poured out effortlessly, one after the other in almost incomprehensible pace.

Bloodied by battle as they both were, he wrapped his arms around her as she begun to cry, Lord Hoyt's body at their feet. All in all Maura learned from him that they had been in Lord Hoyt's less than pleasant company for almost a full turn of the moon.

She had told him everything. About Garrett, then about Lord Hoyt. Then she had told him about Jane, between tears of pain at seeing her brother and learning that her sister Cailyn was still in harms way.

It scared her more that he had said no word to her after that. He had ordered her- yes, her brother was now the Lord of all the North- to return to her rooms and join him at mid day at the great hall, which had been scrubbed clean from the remnants of battle. All the Hoyt banners had been torn down from the walls, replaced by the Doyle wolf, yet nobody else inhabited the hall, save the guard outside and the serving girls that came and went, setting a full table.

Suddenly the large ornate door parted noisily and down the corridor Maura could hear -no it couldn't possibly be?- hoof beats. She stood alone, in her white gown and furs, waiting, expecting...

A glorious black stallion of impressive stature trotted past the doors into the hall. It carried a man in full light armour on its back, his great helm with the visor drawn down his face, wearing the Doyle colours. His sword clicked against his armour as he mutely dismounted in slow, measured movements, landing two paces away from her.

Suddenly intimidated Maura considered taking a step back but she was frozen in place by anticipatory energy as he reached to remove his help. Rich black tressed spilled out against cold steel.

Maura clasped a hand over her mouth as Jane went down on one knee before her.

''Please excuse my appearance,'' the Astapori said thickly, staring at the marble mosaic as she swallowed hard. ''I've had a difficult year.''

Maura did not notice Collin enter behind them as she knelt down next to Jane and wrapped her arms around her neck .

''I thought you were...'' Her fear f the worst remained unvoiced as Collin begun to talk.

''The debt I owe you, foreigner, is one that cannot be repaid by goods alone but also requires deeds.'' Jane watched him carefully over Maura's body trebling tearfully in her embrace. ''House Doyle welcomes you as one of our own now, you have a home here if you so wish to stay.'' He waited patiently for her answer as she stood grateful for Maura's hands, steadying around her waist. The armour however unusually light was still hard to stand in given her state.

''There is still a war to be fought,'' Collin continued, keeping his distance. ''Had you not killed Lord Hoyt when you did his men would no have fled, allowing us to reclaim this castle so easily. But this war is not over. You are welcome to rest here for as long as you require but then you are both riding out with me.''

Maura finally pulled away, her hands both locked around Jane's arm. ''Why?''

''I have word of our sister Cailyn taken to Whiterun by Lord Hoyt's men. I am not leaving you here unprotected,'' he countered. ''And I could use Jane's experience in battle. If she agrees to help me lead our bannermen to victory.''

Jane suddenly felt both of them staring at her in expectation. She raised her gloved hand, looking down at Maura's slender fingers resting in her palm. ''Tell me to stay...'' she whispered, ''And I will.'' She brushed a thumb gently over her skin. ''Otherwise I'll ride out tomorrow and return to Astapor.'' She was thankful for Collin's silent patience as she waited for Maura's words.

''You could really just leave?'' the Doyle Lady said in a fragile voice. ''If I ordered you to go back and never return to the North, you would?''

''Maura.'' There was bitter humour in the word. ''I am no night, no Lord. I cannot win your heart with acts of bravery and great castles, if you refuse me I have no means of earning your love. My only option will be to lave. I am a soldier. A slave. I have always been one and always will be. Order me to leave and I will obey, my Lady.''

She waited for an answer that never quite came. She stood, feigning interest on the cracked marble, when Maura stepped closer, placing both palms on her chest, and kissed her.

* * *

Sitting quietly next to each other at the edge of the bed, Jane and Maura both waited. Jane, after having smoothed every possible crease of her shirt, finally mustered the courage to speak, cringing with her own heavy accent that slipped through, conscious of it for the first time.

''I had not known Collin meant us to share your bedchambers,'' she said. ''But I am sure there are more than enough empty quarters for me.'' She did not make a move to leave.

''I'm sorry Jane,'' Maura mumbled. ''I...''

''It's of no concern.'' Jane reached for her hand, brought it to her lips and kissed it. ''You need not say a word.''

Maura looked at the gentle brown eyes that mirrored herses and she almost melted. She could not remember a man or woman looking at her with such undisrupted admiration. She would not doubt Jane would do for her what nobody could think possible and, perhaps, with Jane she could do what she had thought possible with nobody.

Slowly, as if an abrupt gesture would scare herself out of whatever had possessed her, Maura placed a hand on the Astapori's chest and pushed her down on the bed. Jane, however surprised, complied, and Lady Doyle climbed over her, instinctively mindful of all her injuries. She leaned over, kissing the side of her mouth before reaching to unbutton her silk shirt. On the second button Jane reached up, covering her hands with hers, holding her still.

''Maura, we don't have to-''

''I want to. Because we don't have to.''

Despite her hesitation Jane released her and she went back on her task, her heart sharply against her chest, her gown pooling around them.

''When we walked in here together, just for an instant, I thought of Garrett and how I told you I loved him just to hurt you.'' She traced the edge of the linen bandages across Jane's shoulder and stomach with a light finger. ''I thought I loved him. I thought I had to.'' She watched the Astapori's eyes darken impossibly under the candle light, her breath coming laboured.

''You cannot order someone to love you, can you?'' Maura asked her with uncertainty.

Jae sat up, bringing her arms around her to keep her in place. ''You do not have to.'' She whispered, kissing the pulse point just under her ear. ''Maura...'' she craned her neck, resting her head atop Lady Doyle's shoulder. ''Tell me to stop.''

''What if I don't want you to stop?'' Maura asked, in a mixture of excitement and fear of the unknown.

Jane hooked a thumb on the strap of her gown and bared her shoulder, trailing a path of kisses down her collarbone. She smelled like the scented water she had been in herself earlier that day and Jane wondered if she tasted the same, like wildflowers and honey and she succumbed to the temptation of seeing for herself.

She looked up briefly, trying to sense the reaction she was getting but Maura's eyes were closed, her lips parted.

Jane discovered, after uncovering her other shoulder, that Maura did not need to wear anything else to look the way she did and when the gown slipped past her chest she was suddenly exposed for the waist up. For a few instances Jane was unsure whether she should avert her eyes, but then Maura, blushing deeply smiled shyly at her. She moved just enough to help her lean back on their pillows and pull the gown even lower, her hands working up her ribs as her lips traveled down.

Maura gasped and Jane felt her body react under her touch. It helped ease her mind a little and she forced herself to think past the intoxication that clouded her mind. She had not planned it, but when she reached for her gown, intending to reveal her stomach, Maura raised her hips, helping her pull it off entirely.

She had seen her naked before, but never in that context, never _for_ her. Every logical function of her brain ceased and for the first time in her life Jane found her hands shaking. She was no longer a soldier, hard and callous, trained in combat. She was scared. Not the fear she had felt when Lord Hoyt looked at her, the fear that made her shrink into a lesser being, but a type of softer yet sharped fear that went straight to her chest.

As she moved lower and lower she could no longer see Maura's face and she had to rely on sound alone. The sudden gasp she heard when Jane's kisses went further up her thigh was enough. Maura looked down at her with surprise to her own reaction, the way her body was replying with a mind of its own until her so capable and intelligent mind became similar to a pot, boiling violently over the fire, until something inside her exploded with a sound she could not believe came from her own throat.

Her body was heavy as her blood drummed in her ears. The next time she opened her eyes and managed to even her breathing her head was laying atop Jane's chest, rhythmically rising and falling with her breath.

A loose strand of rebelious dark hair tickled her nose and she reached to brush it aside, alerting Jane that she was once more aware.

''Hey...'' Maura felt the word ease shyly out of her chest below. She had been under the impression Jane had absolutely everything under control but this scared half question betrayed her.

Suddenly, Maura felt the urge to comfort her instead.

''Don't go...'' She draped an arm over her waist, trying to bring her body even closer if such was possible. Despite the Winter outside the fire burned bright and their proximity was enough to stay warm. ''Nobody would wait like you did.'' she whispered. She was by now accustomed to Jane's silence and it did not worry her. ''I'm sorry for everything.'' Her fingers traced Jane's prominent ribcage. ''I spent all my life learning all there is to learn and in the end I was wrong and you were right.'' She laughed quietly. ''In the end love does not concern itself with details.'' She felt a hand trail down her leg as Jane rose an an elbow to look at her as she spoke. Maura shuddered, surprised by the small sigh that spilled past her lips as she struggled to collect her thoughts. ''I need you...'' Suddenly continuing was exceedingly hard. ''I need you to forgive me, Jane-''

The kiss that came next, creeping up on her, made her forge the reason she was apologizing on the first place. Her body arched, her arms reaching for Jane's shoulders as she hovered above her. For a few instances Maura forgot about it all, for a few instances she wasn't a queen anymore, nor was she a Doyle, there was no war. When all her titles tumbled down, her identity peeled back, all she were was a woman in a lover's arms.

And, for the first time, it was enough.

* * *

 ** _The end, for now at least. Please let me know what you think of this and have a nice day y'all_**

 ** _L_**


	22. Sweetest Orders

_**Sorry folks, I'm just reuploading this since there seemed to have been an error lately with fanfiction and new updates.**_

* * *

 _ **Hello everybody. This is the last chapter for this fanfic, as you've noticed I've made it quite large to wrap up our story and yet leave a possibility for a sequel in the future. For now I was planning on working a little more on my Moonstruck universe, if you have not read it you can find it in my stories by clicking my username. Thank you for bearing with me in this story, I know my updates were not as frequent as I'd have liked them to be but I'm glad you stuck around and I hope you've enjoyed it to the end.**_

 _ **L**_

Chapter twenty: Sweetest Orders

Jane had never been stranger to darkness. Growing up her training always took place in the small hours and when the time for rest came the luxury of lit barracks was sparse. She could eat, dress and sleep in complete darkness and most importantly, in total silence.

And yet now her thoughts dilated the blank space, making her often reach out with her shackled hands, in case she was not alone anymore.

She was more or less certain that she had been left in the dungeon to away some resourceful yet painful end or simply to expire in darkness, surrounded by rats and worms and such vermin as befit her low birth.

Ironically, in such a place her mind traveled back to all the other things she had done in absolute darkness. Flashes f the rustle of skin on skin, the smell of sweat and wine, intoxicating in it's own familiarity. The sound of a drawn breath, a trapped thing against a lover's throat.

And then, crystal clear in the pool of her mind, Maura's throat, reflecting the ripples of the water, shadow against white skin that night night in the river.

Had she come there by herself, Jane would now allow herself to die. For a warrior death is but the expected outcome, a death in battle indeed is the most one could expect of honour in their world of limited propabiliies. A death here, in a dungeon, covered in filth and dying as the cold seemed into her bones, there was little honour in that. She would however not have minded, had she been alone. It would simply be a release, the fulllfillment of a predestined purpose.

But she wasn't. She had not been for a while now, not since arriving in Winterfell. Perhaps the only thing able to elevate one of her status to honour was purpose. And by all the Gods, purpose she had.

On might think that an unsullied warrior, a creator born out of brutal training, with all cravings and all emotions so methodically eradicated, would be incapable of love. And yet she had no words to describe the swelling in her chest that had very little to do with the persisted coughing, brought on by the chill of the dungeon.

Every time she closed her eyes -making little difference to the dark- she dreamt of riding. She did not dream often, not since she had been a child, but now she was trapped in an endless cycle of galloping atop a dead horse, alone in an empty field.

She had fallen off that horse, she was certain about that, when the door creaked open and she was pulled out of the dream and onto her knees.

A torch was brought close to her face, most likely to ensure her identity and then she was unceremoniously dragged outside the cell.

She made no effort to stand, unwilling to indicate that she was more alert than they expected, fearing deeply whether they were right to judge her useless. Her guards, two men that did not sound -or smell- like the brightest men in the caste, for she presumed it was a castle, eventually gave up and bodily carried her, ascending endless flights of stairs, until the clean air of the surface hit her in the face like a closed fist.

Jane considered using the shackles around her arms to strangle one of her guards then attempt to use his weapon to kill the other but she had neither seen nor heard of Maura and she did not wish to be a fugitive in a castle she did not know and in which she had not idea where to look for the Doyle Lady.

She dangled over the incredibly thick shoulders of her guard, smelling the cheap wine oozing our of his pores as the chill of winter slipped through the tatters of hr clothes and she wondered just how long it had been since she was sentenced into the dark. The insanity had bounced endlessly around her head, the North was always cold, it could be that a whole moon or even a whole year had passed while she lay trapped there in her chains, while Maura was in such terrible danger.

Or perhaps -and that had been Jane's cruelest fear- she was already dead, victim of the senseless war of their realm.

The lit torches flashed like eyes of an exotic beast to her light deprived eyes. Somewhere along the way the gravel of the floor changed into royal crimson carpet and then to cool tiles as she was thrown down.

She allowed her body to go limp, feigning uncounsciousness, and then when she was awakened by a kick to the ribs, disorientation.

The chamber was large and brightly lit by dozens of torches. Maura was the first thing she saw as she gathered her legs under her and sat up. She was in a comfortable recliner, wearing a rich blue gown, but her eyes were deeply set and there was a dark bruise over her cheek.

''Janie...'' The disembodied voice slithered, and Jane heard the footsteps too late to realise he was right behind hr in his silky tunic and leather britches.

He was monstrously blown out of proportion by her forced persepective on the floor, his boots enormous and his body like a stone tower as he leaned over her and cupped her face.

He was clean but smelled of sweat and disease, sweet and strong like rotten fruit, his teeth were dangerously sharp and white.

''I have neglected you for a long time, could you forgive me?'' he whispered close to her ear, his breath wet on her kin. She kept her gaze fixed on his boots, unsullied were trained within an inch of their lives to fear no man and yet there was something so vile in him that for the first time in her life Jane was not only repulsed but also afraid. Fear was a foreign emotion to her, so unfamiliar that it physically paralyzed her.

''I was so busy you see...'' he continued. ''..with sweet little Maura here.''

As their first test in resolve the unsullied children are given a newborn puppy. They are taught to care for it, feed and clean it, day and night until its a grown loyal dog. And the day this happens, in the training session they are told to strangle the creature bare handedly. The animal at first shies away but its great than its instinct of self preservation and soon it whines in pain under it's master's touch and expires.

''Speak!'' he spat at her, backhanding her across the face. ''I know you are not mute, woman!''

For their final test they are presented with a child, no more than months old. And when they are covered with that child's blood then a terrible warrior emerges, devoid of empathy and incapable of fear. The same warrior that Lord Hoyt was now effortlessly crushing.

Blood spattered the tiles as her bottom lip split open, ruining what was left of the shirt. The strong copper taste seemed to help bring her out of the daze: blood meant battle, she was trained for this, but what sort of battle could she wage, chained at a Lord's feet, less than a dog.

She expected another blow that never came and she looked up in confusion to see him approach Maura instead.

''People preach about love...'' he mused, grabbing Lady Doyle by the arm and yanking her towards him. Maura allowed herself to be pushed against the dinner table in the middle of the room with ease that let Jane know this was not the first time. ''There is nothing pure, nothing true in what you call love.'' He pressed her face down into the wood, trapping her hands above her head in one of his, in quite the vulgar position. ''Love is simply ill conceiver lust,'' he continued, kissing the side of her neck. ''Fear, however, is the truest of emotions.'' He turned to Jane with a smile obviously pleased with her horrified expression as he pressed himself against Lady Doyle's back in a constricting embrace.

''This castle is under siege,'' he whispered sharply to them, a perverse intimacy. ''The Lady's brother has finally tracked us down and I know well what he'll do to me when he finds out what me and his Lady sister have been up.'' He wound a lock a golden hair around his finger and gave a sharp twist. ''I do not intend on letting that happen, until not before I enjoy my prize one last time, and what a prize it is that delicious fear of yours, Bastard.''

Jane let her head drop back heavily on the cool tiles, staring up as the high ceiling swam around her in unpredictable, dizzying patterns. This nightmare was perhaps the result of her death and the beginning of whatever eternal punishment cruel Gods had invented for her numerous evil deeds. She found no reason however for this hideous suffering to be extended to Maura.

''Now, don't you look away, Janie Jane, don't look away of I might just need to make this a little uncomfortable for the sweet Lady.''

Jane's head snapped up as he elicited a yelp from Maura, dragging a heavily adorned dagger lightly across her bared shoulder. A faint red line that bled thinly appeared instantly. ''A few good men can defend this castle against hundreds of soldiers, and I have a lot more than that Jane.''

An unsullied soldier will always be subject to his mater. Order him to stand in the sun and he will stand until the next day comes and then the next and he collapses on his post. And so Jane stood. She wished for someone to order her to remain standing, wondering if all her strength came after all from brutally taught discipline and obedience and whether, as a free woman, she was was nothing.

If her soul and resolve was small and petty like her life.

What sort of free man would let such a thing happen to the woman he loves and just stand watching, simply because he was told there was nothing he could do, simply because he was starved and chained and beaten half to death.

And so what.

Did the fact her legs were about to give make Maura's life less meaningful? Did it make the finger shaped bruises he was now leaving on her thigh any easier to bear-

''No...'' She said, grabbing onto the table for support, meaning her voice to sound way stronger than it ended up coming out. ''I won't-''

She stared down wordlessly as his dagger came down on her hand, piercing through and pinning her to the wood.

The pain came with some delay, the time it took for her uncooperative brain to catch up. She gasped, unable to conjure up enough air in her lungs for anything louder. It was shock that made her uninjured hand move to the hilt of the dagger and he laughed turning his attention back to Maura, forcing her face away so she could not see the Astapori trapped to her side.

Jane's hand, locked around the hilt, pulled, hard and fast, fingers spasming in pain. Blood poured freely, pulsing rhythmically with the beat of her heard. The dagger clicked on the floor as she clutched her bleeding hand.

It was probably not been the brightest idea she'd ever had, judging from the amount of blood she was now losing, and, more importantly, the rate at which she was losing it. If she went on like this she knew that there was very little she could do about passing out and quite soon.

She was not used at feeling pain, at least not experience it this way. It was as if the fear had unlocked something inside her, some remnants of humanity her training had not managed to obliterate, some piece of the puzzle of her psyche that awakened as she stood on the verge of losing everything.

The pain almost paralysed her arm up to the shoulder in sere agony. Had she known how to she might have knelt and screamed the remaining instances of her life away like a common wounded peasant. She could not understand how she had been the woman who once was allowed to mount a dragon, fearless behind her Queen, but all that was so long ago. How had a simple, mortal man, reduced her to this scared bloody mess.

She knew he had visited her cell, and quite often at that, but this was not the first time she had been beaten or tortured, but there was something about hi, something that made his reptilian features more terrifying than a roaring dragon.

And then she knew that of all the days in her life this could not be the one she remembered fear. This man could bleed and what bleeds can be killed. Had she been trained all her life to be afraid of asingle man then it had all been for nothing. A soldier that cannot fight has not purpose and when all she knows was fighting then what is she without purpose? Nothing.

He had reached to that conclusion himself and payed her no mind anymore, busying himself with the way Maura writhed under him. Jane's hands wrapped blindly around the hilt of the sword that hang on his hip and she pulled it out with a whiny hiss. Her hands locked and he turned to her with surprise, not bothering to move away from the Lady.

She had the chance to finally see his fear as she swung.

His head tumbled instantly on the ground but for a few instances his body remained standing as if propelled by some invisible force. Maura, sensing his unusual muscle twitch, turned a weary look at him, then screamed.

She scrambled away, showered in blood, lost her balance and fell to the floor, crawling away from his body as he collapsed. Her hands slipped on the blood as it poured out rapidly through the severed arteries of his neck, as she tried to smoothen down the gown that had bunched around her hips.

She looked up at Jane's lost expression and could not help but curl into herself in fear. The Astapori still clenched the sword but her arms were already trembling in exhaustion, or perhaps shock at having killed the first man that had managed to bring her fear.

Lord Hoyt's guard fell upon her like a pack of mad dogs until Maura lost her slender outline through the mass of armour and muscled bodies. There was not time or way for Maura to react as the Astapori was buried in the sea of sweaty flesh.

She had no time to process much else either as a cluster of men burst in through the ornate double doors, their armour clattering, adding to the noise of the wide hall.

''The gates!'' one of them shouted. ''They're tearing down the gates!''

A thunderous sound spread past all the noise, screams echoing all the way from the yard.

* * *

Jane laid on her back, immobilized by necessity. Her chains, still there, were whispers of steel against skin, but they were probably the last thing keeping her trapped. Even without them she knew with certainty that she not be able to rise.

Her breath came wheezing out in a white mist in the chilly air of her cell. She could neither tell how she had gotten there, nor for how long.

She could feel the irregularities of the cold stone floor on her back but every time she coughed her dark surroundings seemed to pulsate like a bright fire. The silence was strange, there were no other prisoners, at least not close enough for her to hear.

They would certainly kill her now, after what she'd done. For once she had been impulsive, she had not considered her escape or what would become of Maura after he was dead but now she could only lie in her cell and wonder, nightmarish scenarios of the woman she had loved being torn apart.

Unsullied were trained into an obeying killing machine. For once, executing a decision she had made herself, felt right but not right enough to have risked all she held dear.

And yet, from the floor of what may be her last living quarter, there was little she could do to redeem for her moment of thoughtlessness.

The door creaked open and for the first time in her life her mind held no plans of escape. Eve if the guard was alone, trapped inside her incapacitated body, the Astapori had no way of getting past him.

The man that entered, first, however, could not possibly be a guard, not in the brilliant blue shirt he wore to underline pale blue eyes that perfectly matched his fair hair. He was tall and seemed to expand endlessly above her.

''Yes,'' he said, simply, otherwordly illuminated by the light of the torches in the corridor behind him. ''That is her.''

Just as suddenly as he came he turned on his heel and departed, but the light remained, her door hanging open like an unspoken promise of freedom but at the same time a taunt, for she could not follow.

Two men in full guard armour walked in and Jane was suddenly lifted in the air.

The pain grew, multiplied by their crude handling and she fell into a dark abyss of unawareness that was soon replaced by what could either be a dream or just a fever twisted memory.

The Witch, surrounded by an odd glow, her white hair spread around her face like a benevolent Medusa. Their mute cohabitation in the warped passing of time inside the Weeping Forest, out of which Jane walked out barely months older when she had known it had been years. The hundreds of books she had been able to understand even though she did not yet possess the gift of being able to read words written.

A place where she had almost forgotten the burden of being a soldier and was taught how to be human again, all in absolute silence. That same silence she had taken so long to break out of, even when she chanced upon Maura in the forest.

She often wondered if it had been the Witch's doing, when she found herself suddenly unable to remember how to yield a sword and had been captured, led to Winterfell in chains. She could not exactly pinpoint the instant i was gone from both her body and mind, for she had not missed it when she was in the old woman's house, but perhaps that oblivion was part of the charm as well.

When she woke Jane found herself laying atop a soft, warm bed. She brought her hands before her face and despite the deep wounds around her wrists the shackles were now gone, her left hand thickly wrapped in a bandage that smelled of balm.

Her movements felt odd now, unrestricted, as if she'd gotten used to the heavy motion delay of the chains and suddenly her arms were far faster than she'd ever recalled. She looked around for a familiar face but found none in the emptiness of her small chamber.

Slowly, careful to keep her shackles from making a sound, then recalling their absence, Jane sat up. Her chest was heavy but that momentary freedom felt different and nice on her skin. The fire burnt bright o her left and it would have seemed odd, considering the sunlight streaming through the window, had Jane now known the north was colder than anywhere she'd ever been before. By the bedside was a cup of water and a flagon of wine, which she poured after draining the water but did not drink. It was not fear of poison, if they wanted her dead she doubted they would have gone to so much trouble as to move her to a room with a view to the yard.

She rose and she could see the dead being wheeled away from the ruins of battle. One of the castle walls had been badly damaged during the siege but she saw no signs of fire and the sight of the Doyle sigil on the banner gave her a mixture of emotions. If Collin had found Maura harmed or worse, had he himself survived the siege then he had no reason to keep her alive. Without being able to stop herself she started looking for the blue gown she had last seen on her among the piles of dead soldiers but her room was high enough to prevent her from making entirely certain and she knew that the possibility of falling asleep once more without knowing seemed insane.

The door opened and Jane jumped, reading for a sword on her hip that as not there. Thankfully it did not seem like she required one against the petite twin maids -for they looked so much alike they could only be twins- that tiptoed in.

They seemed young in a way Jane could tell they weren't, possibly boasting as long as twenty summers. They dragged behind them a large copper tub and begun heating a cauldron over the fire. Jane realised their intention only a little too late, just after her torn and dirty shirt started being repeatedly tugged by the shorter one. Despite her protests Jane had to eventually accept her fate and allow herself to be undressed and pushed into the water.

Warm water was a luxury she was not accustomed to nor could ever expect to be. It seemed so long since Maura had made her sit in the tub when she first arrived to Winterfell and even longer still since she had laid endlessly with her Queen, covered by hot water and surrounded by exotic wines and fruit.

The twins seemed that except from their chambermaid duties were also trained as healers and they proceeded to dutifully clean every cut and scrape on her body.

Jane had spoken but briefly, only to voice her unwillingness and the twins seemed to suppose she held no understanding of the common tongue, interpreting her silence as ignorance, and as they continued cleaning wounds that had been long neglected or wounds freshly obtained, they begun to talk to each other quite freely, mostly making observations that, as Jane soon realised, had to do with her.

She flushed a deep shade of red at their almost childish giggling and enthusiasm regarding her physique. Their smiles, she now observed, were not only in dutiful pleasantry but also in shared admiration of what they considered a charming and exotic barbarian.

They took a long time washing and untangling her previously uncared for hai, which had now grown past her shoulders, all rich black curls that suddenly shone in the glow of the fire. When they finally dressed her they put her in dark silk, embroidered with the Doyle wolf and fine sturdy gloves and boots. Jane could not help but notice that she had not been allowed a weapon, despite her polite treatment, and her spear was nowhere in sight.

Suddenly, despite her anxiety regarding her situation and despite smell like winter blossoms from the scented water, Jane felt her own exhaustion. When she was allowed to sit back on the edge of the bed and the pale skinned northern girls were lacing her boots, she realised she was unable to stand once more, which was unfortunate since _He_ entered her chamber.

* * *

Maura felt condemned to eternal waiting. Her heart hammered against her chest, looking for an escape route past the constricting cage of her ribs. Collin had always been a brave but impulsive young man, one who took decisions very quickly and changed his mind rarely.

Seeing him after so long was very odd. He had grown taller, she thought, if such was possible in that length of time.

His beard was neatly trimmed and gave him a certain roughness that the dash of blond curls around his face could not longer deny him. Telling him all these things had not been easy, not had it been a decision exactly, but his sight after so long made her lips part and words poured out effortlessly, one after the other in almost incomprehensible pace.

Bloodied by battle as they both were, he wrapped his arms around her as she begun to cry, Lord Hoyt's body at their feet. All in all Maura learned from him that they had been in Lord Hoyt's less than pleasant company for almost a full turn of the moon.

She had told him everything. About Garrett, then about Lord Hoyt. Then she had told him about Jane, between tears of pain at seeing her brother and learning that her sister Cailyn was still in harms way.

It scared her more that he had said no word to her after that. He had ordered her- yes, her brother was now the Lord of all the North- to return to her rooms and join him at mid day at the great hall, which had been scrubbed clean from the remnants of battle. All the Hoyt banners had been torn down from the walls, replaced by the Doyle wolf, yet nobody else inhabited the hall, save the guard outside and the serving girls that came and went, setting a full table.

Suddenly the large ornate door parted noisily and down the corridor Maura could hear -no it couldn't possibly be?- hoof beats. She stood alone, in her white gown and furs, waiting, expecting...

A glorious black stallion of impressive stature trotted past the doors into the hall. It carried a man in full light armour on its back, his great helm with the visor drawn down his face, wearing the Doyle colours. His sword clicked against his armour as he mutely dismounted in slow, measured movements, landing two paces away from her.

Suddenly intimidated Maura considered taking a step back but she was frozen in place by anticipatory energy as he reached to remove his help. Rich black tressed spilled out against cold steel.

Maura clasped a hand over her mouth as Jane went down on one knee before her.

''Please excuse my appearance,'' the Astapori said thickly, staring at the marble mosaic as she swallowed hard. ''I've had a difficult year.''

Maura did not notice Collin enter behind them as she knelt down next to Jane and wrapped her arms around her neck .

''I thought you were...'' Her fear f the worst remained unvoiced as Collin begun to talk.

''The debt I owe you, foreigner, is one that cannot be repaid by goods alone but also requires deeds.'' Jane watched him carefully over Maura's body trebling tearfully in her embrace. ''House Doyle welcomes you as one of our own now, you have a home here if you so wish to stay.'' He waited patiently for her answer as she stood grateful for Maura's hands, steadying around her waist. The armour however unusually light was still hard to stand in given her state.

''There is still a war to be fought,'' Collin continued, keeping his distance. ''Had you not killed Lord Hoyt when you did his men would no have fled, allowing us to reclaim this castle so easily. But this war is not over. You are welcome to rest here for as long as you require but then you are both riding out with me.''

Maura finally pulled away, her hands both locked around Jane's arm. ''Why?''

''I have word of our sister Cailyn taken to Whiterun by Lord Hoyt's men. I am not leaving you here unprotected,'' he countered. ''And I could use Jane's experience in battle. If she agrees to help me lead our bannermen to victory.''

Jane suddenly felt both of them staring at her in expectation. She raised her gloved hand, looking down at Maura's slender fingers resting in her palm. ''Tell me to stay...'' she whispered, ''And I will.'' She brushed a thumb gently over her skin. ''Otherwise I'll ride out tomorrow and return to Astapor.'' She was thankful for Collin's silent patience as she waited for Maura's words.

''You could really just leave?'' the Doyle Lady said in a fragile voice. ''If I ordered you to go back and never return to the North, you would?''

''Maura.'' There was bitter humour in the word. ''I am no night, no Lord. I cannot win your heart with acts of bravery and great castles, if you refuse me I have no means of earning your love. My only option will be to lave. I am a soldier. A slave. I have always been one and always will be. Order me to leave and I will obey, my Lady.''

She waited for an answer that never quite came. She stood, feigning interest on the cracked marble, when Maura stepped closer, placing both palms on her chest, and kissed her.

* * *

Sitting quietly next to each other at the edge of the bed, Jane and Maura both waited. Jane, after having smoothed every possible crease of her shirt, finally mustered the courage to speak, cringing with her own heavy accent that slipped through, conscious of it for the first time.

''I had not known Collin meant us to share your bedchambers,'' she said. ''But I am sure there are more than enough empty quarters for me.'' She did not make a move to leave.

''I'm sorry Jane,'' Maura mumbled. ''I...''

''It's of no concern.'' Jane reached for her hand, brought it to her lips and kissed it. ''You need not say a word.''

Maura looked at the gentle brown eyes that mirrored herses and she almost melted. She could not remember a man or woman looking at her with such undisrupted admiration. She would not doubt Jane would do for her what nobody could think possible and, perhaps, with Jane she could do what she had thought possible with nobody.

Slowly, as if an abrupt gesture would scare herself out of whatever had possessed her, Maura placed a hand on the Astapori's chest and pushed her down on the bed. Jane, however surprised, complied, and Lady Doyle climbed over her, instinctively mindful of all her injuries. She leaned over, kissing the side of her mouth before reaching to unbutton her silk shirt. On the second button Jane reached up, covering her hands with hers, holding her still.

''Maura, we don't have to-''

''I want to. Because we don't have to.''

Despite her hesitation Jane released her and she went back on her task, her heart sharply against her chest, her gown pooling around them.

''When we walked in here together, just for an instant, I thought of Garrett and how I told you I loved him just to hurt you.'' She traced the edge of the linen bandages across Jane's shoulder and stomach with a light finger. ''I thought I loved him. I thought I had to.'' She watched the Astapori's eyes darken impossibly under the candle light, her breath coming laboured.

''You cannot order someone to love you, can you?'' Maura asked her with uncertainty.

Jae sat up, bringing her arms around her to keep her in place. ''You do not have to.'' She whispered, kissing the pulse point just under her ear. ''Maura...'' she craned her neck, resting her head atop Lady Doyle's shoulder. ''Tell me to stop.''

''What if I don't want you to stop?'' Maura asked, in a mixture of excitement and fear of the unknown.

Jane hooked a thumb on the strap of her gown and bared her shoulder, trailing a path of kisses down her collarbone. She smelled like the scented water she had been in herself earlier that day and Jane wondered if she tasted the same, like wildflowers and honey and she succumbed to the temptation of seeing for herself.

She looked up briefly, trying to sense the reaction she was getting but Maura's eyes were closed, her lips parted.

Jane discovered, after uncovering her other shoulder, that Maura did not need to wear anything else to look the way she did and when the gown slipped past her chest she was suddenly exposed for the waist up. For a few instances Jane was unsure whether she should avert her eyes, but then Maura, blushing deeply smiled shyly at her. She moved just enough to help her lean back on their pillows and pull the gown even lower, her hands working up her ribs as her lips traveled down.

Maura gasped and Jane felt her body react under her touch. It helped ease her mind a little and she forced herself to think past the intoxication that clouded her mind. She had not planned it, but when she reached for her gown, intending to reveal her stomach, Maura raised her hips, helping her pull it off entirely.

She had seen her naked before, but never in that context, never _for_ her. Every logical function of her brain ceased and for the first time in her life Jane found her hands shaking. She was no longer a soldier, hard and callous, trained in combat. She was scared. Not the fear she had felt when Lord Hoyt looked at her, the fear that made her shrink into a lesser being, but a type of softer yet sharped fear that went straight to her chest.

As she moved lower and lower she could no longer see Maura's face and she had to rely on sound alone. The sudden gasp she heard when Jane's kisses went further up her thigh was enough. Maura looked down at her with surprise to her own reaction, the way her body was replying with a mind of its own until her so capable and intelligent mind became similar to a pot, boiling violently over the fire, until something inside her exploded with a sound she could not believe came from her own throat.

Her body was heavy as her blood drummed in her ears. The next time she opened her eyes and managed to even her breathing her head was laying atop Jane's chest, rhythmically rising and falling with her breath.

A loose strand of rebelious dark hair tickled her nose and she reached to brush it aside, alerting Jane that she was once more aware.

''Hey...'' Maura felt the word ease shyly out of her chest below. She had been under the impression Jane had absolutely everything under control but this scared half question betrayed her.

Suddenly, Maura felt the urge to comfort her instead.

''Don't go...'' She draped an arm over her waist, trying to bring her body even closer if such was possible. Despite the Winter outside the fire burned bright and their proximity was enough to stay warm. ''Nobody would wait like you did.'' she whispered. She was by now accustomed to Jane's silence and it did not worry her. ''I'm sorry for everything.'' Her fingers traced Jane's prominent ribcage. ''I spent all my life learning all there is to learn and in the end I was wrong and you were right.'' She laughed quietly. ''In the end love does not concern itself with details.'' She felt a hand trail down her leg as Jane rose an an elbow to look at her as she spoke. Maura shuddered, surprised by the small sigh that spilled past her lips as she struggled to collect her thoughts. ''I need you...'' Suddenly continuing was exceedingly hard. ''I need you to forgive me, Jane-''

The kiss that came next, creeping up on her, made her forge the reason she was apologizing on the first place. Her body arched, her arms reaching for Jane's shoulders as she hovered above her. For a few instances Maura forgot about it all, for a few instances she wasn't a queen anymore, nor was she a Doyle, there was no war. When all her titles tumbled down, her identity peeled back, all she were was a woman in a lover's arms.

And, for the first time, it was enough.

* * *

 ** _The end, for now at least. Please let me know what you think of this and have a nice day y'all_**

 ** _L_**


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